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SIGNALS FROM THE BAY TREE 


BOOKS BY FATHER SPALDING 


Each with a Frontispiece. 12tno, cloth, 
each, net, $1.50; postpaid , $1.60 

THE CAVE BY THE BEECH FORK 
THE SHERIFF OF THE BEECH FORK 
THE MARKS OF THE BEAR CLAWS 
THE RACE FOR COPPER ISLAND 
THE SUGAR CAMP AND AFTER 
THE CAMP BY COPPER RIVER 
THE OLD MILL ON THE WITHROSE 
AT THE FOOT OF THE SAND-HILLS 
HELD IN THE EVERGLADES 
SIGNALS FROM THE BAY TREE 




Phil drew the big Colt revolver from its case strapped to 
his side. . . . “Four shots ?” he asked . — Page 140. 



SIGNALS 

FROM THE BAY TREE 


BY 

REV. HENRY S^SPALDING, S. J. 



New York, Cincinnati, Chicago 

BENZIGER BROTHERS 

PUBLISHERS OF BENZIGER'S MAGAZINE 

1921 



Copyright, 1921, by Benziger Brothers 


<m»«T mm 
OCT 23 JSBr# 


.SEP 17 1921 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTEB 

I 

Through Ten Thousand Islands 

PAGE 

7 

II 

Mark Green .... 


15 

III 

Good Luck Box . 


22 

IY 

Shark River .... 


29 

Y 

Through the “ Leads ” and the 



’Glades .... 


38 

VI 

“ Lookout Island” 


48 

VII 

Work or Play 


55 

VIII 

Off to the Rookery 


63 

IX 

Nearing the Treasure . 


71 

X 

Angling for Gold 


77 

XI 

Unwelcome Visitors . 


84 

XII 

On the Trail 


90 

XIII 

Lod Catches a Strange Fish 


98 

XIV 

The Coming of ’Gator Pete 


104 

XV 

The Good Luck Box Again 


110 

XVI 

Pedro Blanco’s Resolve 


117 

XVII 

The Council of War . 


125 

XVIII 

The Signals from the Bay Tree 

133 

XIX 

Lod Has a Suggestion 


140 

XX 

The Trials of a Leader 


147 

XXI 

False Signals 


154 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 


PAGE 

XXII 

Chief Cripple-Foot 

161 

XXIII 

Unexpected Visitors . 

168 

XXIV 

Double Signals .... 

173 

XXV 

Indian Tom and the Lost Trail 

180 

XXVI 

Mr. Green Attacks the Enemy 

186 

XXVII 

Clifford Savage Was Not De- 



ceived 

193 

XXVIII 

Senor Lopez Becomes a Hero . 

201 


SIGNALS 

FROM THE BAY TREE 


CHAPTER I 

THROUGH TEN THOUSAND ISLANDS 

L od raised a long tin horn to his mouth and 
J blew a blast that went reverberating over 
the waters; at the same instant the engine 
started, and the small barge moved slowly from 
the wharf. 

The boys were off for the expedition to the 
Everglades. How often had they imagined this 
trip, talked of it, dreamed of it! With long 
sticks they had often pointed at blackened 
stumps and claimed that they had killed bears. 
The dry branches of shrubbery had represented 
the horns of deer. Twisted sticks along the 
roadside had been avoided, for these were called 
rattlesnakes and poison-moccasins. But now 
the boys were off for the expedition where they 
w^ould find real bears and real deer and real 
snakes. 

There were three of them, Phil, Lod and Clif- 
ford. 

“Don’t get lost again,” cried out Mrs. Reed 
to her adopted son Phil. 

7 


8 THROUGH TEN THOUSAND ISLANDS 

“Keep away from poison snakes,” warned Mrs. 
Speaks, as she waved to Lod. 

“Don’t you fall out of that boat and get 
drowned,” said the mother of Clifford Savage. 

But words of warning and advice were all but 
lost on the young adventurers in the din of the 
voices of their little brothers and sisters who 
had come to see them off. 

“Be sure to say your prayers every morning 
and night,” called out Mrs. Reed in a vain at- 
tempt to be heard above the noisy crowd and 
the churning wheel of the barge. 

“And pray to your Guardian Angels,” chimed 
in Mrs. Speaks. 

“And, Clifford, don’t you fall into the water,” 
repeated Mrs. Savage. 

There were interchanges of good-bys and wav- 
ing of handkerchiefs, until a mangrove island 
hid the barge from the mainland. 

“Mother is always thinking I’m going to get 
drowned,” protested Clifford to his companions 
when the barge was some distance from the 
shore. 

“And that s-n-a-k-e-s are going to poison us 
ev’ry night,” grumbled Phil. 

“I’m going to say my prayers every night,” 
replied Lod. 

“All of us are; but we don’t have to be told 
about it so often,” declared Phil. 

The boys had reached an age when they were 
inclined to resent parental advice, and yet it 
was just an age w T hen they needed that advice 
most. When younger, they had obeyed with the 


THROUGH TEN THOUSAND ISLANDS 9 


simplicity of children; later, their experience 
and age would guide them; but now in this 
changing period of boyhood the advice and the 
warning of parents could not be given too often. 

Phil was just rounding out his fifteenth year, 
although he appeared to be only thirteen. He 
was red-headed, freckle-faced, fiery-tempered, 
with a full round face and with lips which for 
the most part were rather firm and set for a 
boy of his age. He was an adopted child who 
did not know his own parentage, though he was 
evidently of Irish descent. At first he had dis- 
appointed the Reed family into which he had 
been received, but during the past few months 
he had shown a decided improvement in be- 
havior and willingness to work ; and it was as a 
part reward of his excellent conduct and as an 
incentive for the future that the present trip of 
adventure was granted to him and his two 
friends. 

Lloyd Charles Speaks, at first called “Loddy” 
and finally “Lod,” was from Kentucky. His 
father had come to Florida to hunt and to fish, 
and had later moved there with his family. Lod 
was a sturdy boy of normal height and build, 
with a growth of sandy hair and eyes of pecu- 
liar blue. He was impulsive to a fault, gener- 
ally acting first and thinking afterwards. Like 
a true Kentuckian, he clung to the use of the 
expression “ I reckon,” shortening it in conver- 
sation to “reck’n.” He had spent much of his 
boyhood days on an uncle’s farm, where he had 
become an expert in the use of the rifle and the 


10 THROUGH TEN THOUSAND ISLANDS 


sporting gun. He had learned to plow, could 
drive a straight row in a corn field, could bind 
wheat, and make hay. For some reason he had 
taken an interest in an old tin horn which had 
been used for a generation to call the workmen 
to the house at meal time on his uncle’s farm; 
this horn the uncle had presented to him on his 
departure for Florida. 

Clifford Savage came with his parents from 
Virginia. He was five feet ten inches, and stood 
just a foot higher than Lod, although he was only 
a month older, being somewhat advanced in his 
sixteenth year. He had always been a delicate 
child, and it was for his sake that his parents, 
following the advice of a physician, had at first 
moved to northern Florida and finally further 
south. The warm sun had given color to his 
cheeks and had tanned his hands and arms. He 
had learned to swim and to row and to use a 
gun. An expert in the use of a camera, he now 
set out fully provided to be the official photog- 
rapher of the expedition. 

The barge in which the three boys embarked 
had pulled away from the private wharf of 
Thomas Reed, just north of Ten Thousand 
Islands. It was a rough market craft built by 
a Mr. Mark Green, a friend of the Reed family, 
and was called the Otter ; for it could glide over 
the shallows just as an otter could slide down 
its slippery path into the water. Mr. Reed had 
arranged to convey the boys to an island, where 
Mr. Green was to meet them and take charge of 
the expedition. 


THROUGH TEN THOUSAND ISLANDS 11 


“Boys,” said Mr. Reed, when the boat was 
some distance from the wharf, “just as you 
started your mothers gave you some advice. 
You are not too big to need advice. Remember 
that! I want you boys to do just what Mr. 
Green tells you. We are at war; thousands of 
men are doing just what they are told to do. 
I want you to do just what Mr. Green tells you. 
Do you hear?” 

There was a muffled assent and a nod in re- 

piy- 

“If at any time Mr. Green should be away 
from you, Clifford should be in lead, for he is 
the oldest and largest. It’s true that Phil has 
been in the ’Glades before, but I want him to 
follow Clifford. You hear that, Phil?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“And you’ll do it?” 

“Yes, sir.” Phil had no difficulty in yielding 
first place, for there was something in the size 
of Clifford that commanded respect. 

“The same to you, Lod,” said Mr. Reed. 
“Remember that Clifford is head if at any time 
Mr. Green should be away.” 

“I reck’n he’ll be the boss,” replied the little 
Kentuckian in characteristic speech. 

“Mr. Reed, you don’t think we’ll be left all 
alone in the Everglades?” spoke up young Clif- 
ford. 

“No, no, I don’t expect any danger. If I did, I 
wouldn’t encourage Mr. Green to take you boys 
there.” 

“Fll do my best.” A feeling of strength and 


12 THROUGH TEN THOUSAND ISLANDS 

responsibility came to Clifford Savage. He did 
not altogether understand the demands of Mr. 
Reed, and yet he was resolved to do his part if 
any danger arose. Phil and Lod felt that Mr. 
Reed had done wisely in appointing the larger 
boy as head of the expedition in case of difficulty. 

It was Thomas Reed’s years of training that 
naturally suggested one of the boys as leader. 
A traffic policeman in Brooklyn for twenty 
years, before coming to Florida, he stood for 
order. He continued to give the boys advice as 
he directed the barge southward. He was a big 
man, with great shoulders and a massive head. 
There was something direct and impressive in 
his voice, and his listeners took seriously the 
advice which he gave. 

He was still continuing his words of advice, 
when the Otter was turned into a rather swift 
current among numerous small islands of man- 
grove. 

“Boys,” said he, “we are now entering: Ten 
Thousand Islands.” 

Off the southwest coast of Florida, and 
hemmed in by the mainland and the Gulf of 
Mexico, lie Ten Thousand Islands. Perhaps no 
one has ever counted the number; to do so would 
be a useless task, for often when a heavy sea 
comes in, many of these islets sail away into the 
great expanse of the gulf, or drift to larger 
islands or hummocks of which they soon form a 
part. Then, too, Ten Thousand Islands is every 
day in the making. Roots of the red mangrove 
are washed away, or seed from the mangrove 


THROUGH TEN THOUSAND ISLANDS 13 


boughs falls into the water and is carried by 
wind or tide to some shallow beach, where there 
is a slight sediment over the coral reef. Little 
roots are sent out, growth is rapid in the warm 
current, and soon a mangrove thicket is there 
with a thousand branches and roots in air and 
tide. Oyster shells and corals collect, growth is 
quickened, and a new island is formed — a man- 
grove island. 

Ten Thousand Islands is — for the cluster can 
be spoken of as one — more water than land. In 
fact, hundreds of the hummocks are daily cov- 
ered by the tide water ; many others, which seem 
islands at a distance, have not sufficient soil for 
an alligator to rest upon. Few there are which 
offer inducements to persons to land or camp, 
and these can be recognized by the larger trees, — 
palm, cypress and live oak, — interspersed here 
and there with the hickory, maple and elm of 
northern states. 

It was towards the end of spring, 1918, that 
the Otter, with Mr. Reed and the three boys 
aboard, went gliding in through the currents of 
Ten Thousand Islands. The man at the wheel 
knew the tortuous windings well, for only an 
experienced hand could guide a craft along these 
ever changing and deceptive rivers. Occasion- 
ally the current was sluggish and all but 
obstructed by patches of pond-lilies or blue- 
hyacinth. In making the quick turns it was 
necessary to guide with care a small canoe which 
was towed by the barge. 

Herons were startled from the shallow waters 


14 THROUGH TEN THOUSAND ISLANDS 

where they were fishing, flocks of sea-gulls 
screamed and darted away, while high overhead 
pelicans sailed in graceful curves. The sun was 
low in the heavens when the Otter drew up at a 
large, dry island, where the passengers were to 
await the coming of Mr. Mark Green. 


CHAPTER II 

MARK GREEN 

S ome people called Mark Green the Fisherman, 
others, the Old Fisherman, while to a few he 
was known as the Tarpon Catcher. A rich friend 
from New York styled him the Lasso Fisherman. 
His long, nnkempt beard of grayish color gave 
him the appearance of a man well on in the fifties ; 
yet Mark Green was only about thirty-seven 
years of age, and in the prime of health and 
strength. 

Twenty years before, after distinguishing 
himself in a New York technical school, he had 
come south as an assistant engineer on a pleasure 
craft. Leaving the stifling engine room one day 
at port, he was captivated by the beauties of the 
tropical growth around him. Unable to resist 
the lure of the water and woods, he resigned his 
position, and became a roamer and sailor in the 
southern part of Florida, where he made his 
living by fishing. He was soon known for his 
dexterity in landing tarpon. Unlike other 
sportsmen who went out with expensive tackle 
to capture this king of fish, he carried only a 
heavy cord. Once he got a strike, he stood erect 
in his canoe, and with both hands over his head 
15 


1 G 


MARK GREEK 


gathered in the slack line in rings, after the 
manner of the western ranchman preparing to 
lasso cattle. It was this peculiar style of fishing 
that gave him the name of the Lasso Fisherman. 
Even the dexterity of keeping his footing in a 
small canoe while landing his prize was a feat 
which no other could imitate. 

One day, when he had secured a remarkably 
large fish after an hour’s struggle, the pleasure 
craft of a New York millionaire came close to 
his canoe. 

“Hello there, Mr. Cracker !” cried out the rich 
man ; “That was a wonderful catch you made.” 

“Keep your names to yourself/’ came the 
indignant reply. “I’m no Cracker.” Cracker 
is a nickname given to the Florida farmer who 
directs his slow team with the crack of a lono* 
whip. 

“I meant no offense. What will you take to 
show me how to land a tarpon?” 

“Go on ! I’m not for hire.” 

“I’ll pay you well.” 

“Go on ! go on !” was the curt answer; for Mark 
Green, nettled by the man’s assuming manners, 
did not even look towards the yacht. 

“I’ll make it a hundred.” 

You v on t make it five hundred. You won’t 
make it anything.” 

“Say, I’m in trouble,” called out the man. 

I ve made a bet that I’ll land a tarpon within 
three days. This is ray second day. Won’t you 
help a fellow out? Come, be a sport.” 

“Didn’t I tell you that I’m not for hire?” 


MARK GREEN 17 

“Leave out the hire part ; come and be a sport 
and help a fellow to win a bet.” 

While they spoke, the pleasure craft of the 
millionaire was drifting towards the fisherman’s 
canoe. 

“What will you take for the fish you have just 
caught?” asked the man from New York. 

“Oh, you can have it for nothing.” 

“Kind of you. I’ll accept your gift ; and now 
won’t you come aboard and have a drink?” 

“Don’t drink.” 

“Not even ice water?” 

“Yes, I’ll take a glass.” 

Mark Green felt that he had been rather hasty 
in resenting the words of the rich stranger. He 
took a drink of ice water and accepted a cigar; 
and after a pleasant chat agreed to accompany 
the man on the following morning. 

“I am on my honor about this tarpon catch- 
ing,” exclaimed the boat owner, whose name was 
Richard Silmon. “My friends came in with 
trophies weighing over a hundred pounds, and 
when I told them that anybody could catch a 
tarpon, they bet me five hundred dollars that I 
couldn’t land one in three days.” 

“We’ll have two large tarpons before to-mor- 
row night,” were the assuring words of Green as 
he left the yacht. 

Mark Green’s promise was kept, for before 
sunset on the following day he and the New 
York millionaire came in with two tarpons each 
weighing over a hundred pounds. 

Three days later the fisherman received a letter 


18 MARK GREEN 

from Silmon. The man from New York had 
presented him with his private fishing boat called 
the Tarpon , valued at six thousand dollars. In 
return, he asked the use of the boat and the 
company of the owner for two weeks each year. 
The men became devoted friends, and when 
Silmon went down to Florida for a fishing trip 
Mark Green and the boat were ready for the 
sport. 

By securing a government contract for carry- 
ing mail to several coast settlements from 
passing vessels, Mark Green was assured of a 
livelihood, although he was engaged only three 
afternoons a week. The rest of the time he was 
free to fish or hunt. 

For the greater part of the time the Tarpon 
was moored at the landing of Thomas Reed. 
It was an accident that brought him to the Reed 
family. Owing to the neglect of a deep wound 
made by an oyster shell, inflammation had set in 
and caused violent pain and fever. He was 
passing near the Reed home at the time, and 
through sheer necessity was forced to land. 
Mrs. Reed received the stranger kindly, and 
washed and treated the wound. For two weeks 
the man lay upon his bed stricken with fever. 
When at last a doctor arrived he informed the 
patient that the care and treatment of Mrs. 
Reed had saved his life. 

After his recovery, Mark Green never forgot 
the Reeds. He insisted on towing the barge, 
laden with vegetables, from the Reed truck 
garden to passing vessels; he brought fish and 
other supplies ; and, above all, he took interest in 


MARK GREEN 19 

the children and the boys of the scattered settle- 
ment. 

One day, when Phil, Lod and Clifford were in 
the Tarpon, the fisherman heard them speak of 
a trunk of gold lost in the Everglades. 

“Boys,” said he, “suppose we take a trip to the 
Everglades !” 

“Hurrah !” cried Lod, “I reck’n that’s great !” 

“And we’ll look for the trunk of gold !” yelled 
Phil. He had been in the Everglades and heard 
from Seminole Indians that years before a 
Spaniard had dropped a trunk of gold into the 
waters, hoping later to return and recover it; 
but the man had died shortly after reaching the 
coast. 

“I’m in this party,” claimed Clifford. 

“All of us are in it,” added Phil; “and if Mr. 
Green will only come, I’m sure that our parents 
will let us make the trip.” 

“And you boys won’t get into any trouble?” 

“No, Mr. Green.” 

“And’ll keep away from snakes?” 

“Yes,” came the chorus. 

“And I’m to get half the gold if we find the 
trunk?” 

“Yes, yes.” 

“Well,” and he spoke with deliberation, “I’m 
really thinking of going with you, boys.” 

Lod kicked his feet so high in the air that he 
fell backwards into the water. For a moment 
he sputtered and floundered ; but soon recovered 
his presence of mind, and swam slowly towards 
the boat. 

“There you are! getting into trouble already! 


20 


MARK GREEN 


What will happen when you’re out in the Ever- 
glades?” protested Mr. Green. 

“Gee! I reek’n I was scared,” blurted out 
Lod. 

“I wasn’t,” put in Clifford, “for I knew you 
could swim.” 

“Yes, that saved him, or he might have 
drowned before we were able to reverse the 
engine and reach him. I have always told you 
boys to learn how to swim, and it is well for Lod 
that he followed my advice,” said the fisherman. 

“We’ve been practicing with our clothes on,” 
exclaimed Phil. 

“That’s right,” said the man. “But coming 
back to this trip to the Everglades, I know where 
there is a large, dry hummock about three days 
poling from the upper end of Shark River. I 
want to go there and mark off a claim for land. 
The state is dredging the place so rapidly that 
in a few years the ’Glades may be turned into 
excellent farm lands. If your parents are will- 
ing, boys, I’ll take the three of you on the trip.” 

“But, Mr. Green,” objected Phil, “I heard 
that the gold trunk was lost further up in the 
’Glades.” 

“No one knows just where it was lost. In 
fact, the way which I’m to follow offers the finest 
deads’ which I have seen. It is altogether 
possible that the Spaniard may have taken this 
route. I’m just as anxious as you boys are to 
find that gold, and I assure you that we’ll keep a 
sharp lookout for it.” 

This answer seemed to satisfy Phil, who took 
the whole matter very seriously. 


MARK GREEN 


21 


As the parents of the boys had full confidence 
in Mark Green they readily consented to his 
taking the boys. 

Days of preparation went by, until finally the 
eventful day of departure had come. It was 
agreed that two canoes would be needed to carry 
the camping outfit. One of these had been towed 
behind the Otter; and the other was to be brought 
by Mr. Green to the island, where Mr. Reed and 
the three boys were to await the coming of the 
leader of the expedition. 

Half an hour after the Otter had come ashore, 
the click, click of an engine was heard ; and soon 
Mr. Green was greeted by the party. The boys 
rushed to the water’s edge to help him to unload, 
but he waved them back. 

“Boys,” said he, as he picked up a package 
covered with oil cloth and bound with heavy 
cords, “no one but myself must touch this bundle. 
It may have dynamite in it and it may be harm- 
less, but no one must touch it. Later, I’ll 
explain to Mr. Reed why I take these precau- 
tions. Stand here in a row.” 

“That’s right ; now raise your right hand and 
repeat these words after me.” They did as he 
directed. 

“I promise not to touch the private package of 
Mr. Green.” They repeated the words. 

“See,” he continued, “it is marked ‘private.’ ” 

The party camped on the island that night. 
When the boys were asleep, Mr. Green narrated 
to his friend an experience of the day; he then 
made known the contents of the mysterious bun- 
dle which he had ordered the boys not to touch. 


CHAPTER III 

GOOD LUCK BOX 

O N Pine Island, one of the Ten Thousand 
Island group, lived a poor Spanish fisher- 
man, Pedro Blanco, with his family. Often had 
Mark Green brought the Tarpon to the small 
wharf to get a supply of fresh water from a 
spring near the house. As he always came with 
little gifts for the children, and frequently gave 
the parents substantial presents in the way of 
clothing and provisions, he was a welcome vis- 
itor. , 

On several occasions, he had observed a little 
trunk in one end of the single room of the dilapi- 
dated hovel. It was made of some peculiar 
species of hard wood, with heavy brass buckles 
on the straps and heavier brass knobs at the cor- 
ners. . 

“I would like to buy that trunk/' he said one 
day to the little housewife, Juana. 

“No sell, no sell, Senor Green." 

“You don’t use it?" 

“Caja de suerte, Senor Green, good — good 
luck box." 

The visitor glanced around, but failed to see 
any evidence of good luck or fortune. 

22 


GOOD LUCK BOX 


23 


“It’s a long time in the family,” explained 
Pedro, “long, very long; great-great grandfather 
give it to my Juana.” 

“ Caja de suerte, good luck box,” repeated 
the wife, growing quite excited and gesticulating 
wildly. 

Pedro, too, became nervously agitated and 
joined in with the rather frantic gesticulations 
and accents of his wife. They both spoke at the 
same time — the box, the good luck box, the caja 
de suerte — how many, many good things it had 
brought. 

The visitor learned from the broken and ram- 
bling sentences that a Spaniard had come to this 
identical place long, very long before, carrying 
two boxes, one filled with fool’s gold and the 
other with real gold. On departing, he took the 
real gold with him, but declared that he would 
return one day and get the other box. Moreover, 
he had exacted a promise from the great-great- 
grandparents of Juana, that they would keep the 
box for him until his return; at the same time, 
he assured them that its very possession would 
bring good luck to the family. The simple peo- 
ple had evidently believed the story, for the 
treasure had always been known in the family 
as the good luck box or the caja de suerte. 

After listening patiently to the broken con- 
versation, Mr. Green said to Pedro and Juana: 
“If you’ll not sell the box or trunk, let me bor- 
row it for a few weeks ; I’ll bring it back, fool’s 
gold and all.” 

“You been very kind to us,” said Pedro. 


24 


GOOD LUCK BOX 


“And to the children,” put in Juana. 

“Can we part with the box?” asked the hus- 
band. 

“It’s a good luck box,” said his wife. 

“Yes, but our friend Sehor Green wants it.” 

“He so very good; but the box?” 

“I promise not to lose it,” were the assuring 
words of the visitor. 

“The caja bring you good luck,” said the Span- 
iard. 

“I hope so; and youTl have it back in a few 
weeks.” 

“Maybe.” 

“I’ll bring it back to you — but let me see. A 
little water won’t hurt it?” 

“Me don’t know.” 

“Suppose I fill it with real gold?” 

“And give it to me?” asked Pedro. 

“Well, we might divide up the treasure.” 

“And where you get the real gold?” 

“Well, that’s a secret. But this much I prom- 
ise. I’ll bring back the box and the fool’s gold. 
Let us take a look at it.” 

“Senor Green he good to us; he look at the 
box,” said the wife, who went into the house to 
bring the treasure into the yard. 

“Made of pure mahogany,” said the visitor, 
as he looked at the outside of the chest; “and 
those knobs are of wonderful workmanship. I 
am not surprised that you value it.” With 
difficulty the leather straps were unfastened. “It 
would fool an expert,” cried out the visitor, as 
he held up a piece of yellowish stone. “Well, 


GOOD LUCK BOX 25 

what do yon say?” he continued, after looking 
over the contents. 

“It bring good luck,” muttered the wife. 

“Yes, but Senor Green, he bring it back.” 

“Thinking it over,” put in the visitor, “I don’t 
want the fool’s gold. I’ll take only a few pieces ; 
the rest you can keep here.” 

While they were discussing the matter of the 
little chest and its contents, a mah came up a 
path at the rear of the house, and, unobserved, 
stood at one side catching parts of the conver- 
sation. He went by the name of ’Gator Pete, 
for like an alligator he could sleep all day in the 
sun and seemed to fare equally well in mud or 
water. His matted hair fell to his shoulders 
and the nails of his fingers and toes were long 
and curved. He went barefooted the year round. 
Most people along the coast were afraid of him, 
and bestowed ready alms to have him depart as 
soon as possible; but Mark Green, after helping 
him on a few occasions, finally ordered him 
never again to come near the Tarpon. ’Gator 
Pete had listened to the conversation of Mr. 
Green and the Spaniards. 

Juana finally agreed to part with her heir- 
loom. But over and over she repeated: “ Caja 
de suerte, the good — good — luck box.” 

When Mr. Green had brought the trunk to his 
boat he observed that it was put together with 
brass screws. Getting out his screw-driver he 
had soon taken the box apart, with each board 
carefully numbered. The bottom was of unusual 
thickness. Holding the box with the tips of his 


26 


GOOD LUCK BOX 


fingers and tapping it with his screw-driver, it 
gave back the notes of a musical instrument. 
Evidently it was hollow. Mr. Green, who was 
no mean mechanic, soon found small screws 
which held a narrow strip closing the compart- 
ments. Out dropped two letters when the nar- 
row strip was removed. 

“Spain,” he muttered, as he glanced over the 
first page of a faded letter ; but not another word 
could he decipher. The second letter proved 
even more of a riddle. It had no address, but 
the signature was in large, bold writing. 

He put the letters in his pocket; then, taking 
the parts of the small trunk he carefully wrapped 
them in rubber cloth. It was this bundle which 
he had in jest ordered the boys not to touch. 

When the Tarpon with Mr. Green had disap- 
peared, ’Gator Pete came from behind the house, 
where he had been hiding and listened to the 
conversation. 

“What he want?” he asked of the Spanish 
family. 

“The good — good luck box.” 

“What he want it fur?” 

“To get gold,” said Pedro. 

“Whare?” 

“Don’t know.” 

“Git box full of gole?” 

“He try.” 

“He no fool ; he gits no fool’s gole. He no fool. 
He smart man. He go wid rich men. He no 
fool.” 

“No, no,” replied Pedro. 


GOOD LUCK BOX 


27 


“He no fool ! Me see !” And afte^ begging of 
the poor family food that could ill be spared, 
’Gator Pete set out to follow the man whom he 
hated and envied. 

When the boys had fallen asleep, Mark Green 
revealed to Mr. Reed the contents of the mys- 
terious bundle. He intended to put the box 
together, fill it with stones, with the fool’s gold 
on top, and then sink it near the island where 
they were to camp. He would then take the boys 
on a fishing trip, and see to it that they discov- 
ered the long lost treasure of the Everglades. 

“But,” continued Mr. Green, after he had ex- 
plained the object of the box, “when I had taken 
the chest apart I found, between a double bot- 
tom, two letters. Here they are. They may be 
of interest or even of value. I can’t read them ; 
they are probably written in Spanish. Take 
them with you, also these two pieces of fool’s 
gold, and keep them until we return from our 
trip.” Mark Green handed the faded letters and 
the specimens of ore to Mr. Reed. 

At daybreak on the following morning the 
party was astir. 

“Come boys,” said Mr. Reed; “the first thing 
to do is to say your morning prayers. You know, 
Mr. Green,” he continued, turning to the fisher- 
man, “we Catholics say prayers morning and 
evening and before meals.” 

“Yes, I’ve been told by their mammies to make 
them say their prayers ; and any fellow that fails 
to do so will get a thrashing,” replied the leader 
of the expedition, with good-natured severity. 


28 


GOOD LUCK BOX 


Down on the sandy beach they knelt, while the 
fisherman stood with uncovered head. 

Breakfast was soon over, and the loading of 
the outfit from the barge to the two canoes began. 
The first one, a steel canoe sixteen feet in length, 
with thirty inch beam and water-tight sections at 
each end, was called the Raud, in honor of 
Ferdinand Rauderly, who had given it to Phil 
Reed. The second canoe, Little Tarpon, was 
of cedar, a lifeboat belonging to the Tarpon and 
slightly smaller than the Raud. 

A detachable motor was to be used in going up 
the Shark River; and, in fact, Mr. Green had 
hopes of its running for a considerable part of 
the voyage through the Everglades. 

Two tents were provided, one for cooking and 
one for sleeping. There was an ample supply 
of meal, with several varieties of canned fruit. 
Of course, there were fishing tackle and firearms 
and the indispensable rubber coats as a protec- 
tion against the tropical rains. 

Most of the outfit was placed in the cedar 
craft, while the party occupied the steel canoe, 
which was propelled by the detachable motor. 

It had been agreed that Lod was to blow his 
long tin horn as a signal for departure. 

Loud it sounded in the stillness of the morn- 
ing, and the motor of the Raud clicked. 

Standing in the barge, Mr. Reed watched the 
two canoes sweep gracefully around the island, 
and, when the boys had waved a last farewell, the 
farmer turned the prow of the Otter homeward. 


CHAPTER IV 

SHARK RIVER 

at last for the trip to the Everglades,” 
V^/ said Mark Green to his happy, smiling 
young friends ; and his own heart beat with boy- 
ish and joyous enthusiasm. “It should take up 
just one day to go up Shark River. To-night we 
hope to camp on the edge of the Everglades, and 
also on the edge of Dismal Swamp. Then in 
three days we should reach my island. I call 
it my island, for some day I’m going to have a 
house there and make the trip by train. The 
state is fast draining the Everglades, and I am 
figuring that a railroad will go in the direction of 
the island.” 

Later, as the canoe swung into a current, Mr. 
Green continued: “This is the outlet of Shark 
River. Now, boys, we begin the finest part of 
the trip. You’ll be disappointed with the Ever- 
glades, all except Phil who has seen them. You’ll 
imagine in the ’Glades that you’re rowing over 
a submerged meadow with rather high grass. 
But this Shark River will disappoint no one. 
Few tourists know of it as yet, but some day 
private yachts will flock to it. If you boys like 
what is beautiful, you’ll be happy to-day. By 
the way, it was Mr. Reed who taught me to 
29 


30 


SHARK RIVER 


appreciate the poetry of Florida. For years I 
tramped these regions and thought nothing of 
the wonderful world in which I lived. But when 
I was sick at Thomas Reed’s house he gave me 
several books on Florida and books of poetry. 
I had time to learn the names of birds and trees, 
and since that time Florida life has been of real 
interest to me.” 

“I learned the names of many trees from the 
Indian who was with me in the ’Glades,” put 
in Phil. 

“The best teacher you could get ; but now you 
must point out the trees to Clifford, for he is the 
latest arrival in these parts.” 

“There is one tree which I know,” claimed 
young Savage looking towards a magnolia of 
wondrous size and laden with myriads of waxen 
blossoms. 

“And I reck’n there’s a hick’ry tree,” said the 
lad from Kentucky, pointing in his turn; “but 
I don’t see any beech trees,” he added. 

“No,” replied Mr. Green, “maple, elm, and 
almost all the other trees of the central states 
grow here, but you’ll find no beech or sycamore. 
Soon you’ll see little but cypress.” 

At the mouth of Shark River the outlines of 
the mainlands began to appear, while Ten Thou- 
sand Islands was left behind. Close to the banks 
grew huge magnolia trees festooned with mam- 
moth vines and somber Spanish moss. Off to 
either side, stretched vast forests of pine, beneath 
which grew the snake-like roots of scrub pal- 
metto. 


SHARK RIVER 


31 


Birds of every size and variety were startled 
from trees and shallow banks by the throb of the 
engine and the voices of the intruders. 

“We’ll need a little dry wood for cooking,” 
remarked the engineer, slowing up the Raud. 
“Why, there’s a piece right ahead of us. Jump 
out, Lod, and get it,” he continued, as he brought 
the canoe ashore. 

Out leaped the lad and ran for the dried 
branch. As he picked it up, he felt a slimy sen- 
sation, and realized that he was pulling at the 
tail of a young alligator. 

“Hold on to it ; it won’t hurt you,” yelled Mr. 
Green, who knew at first sight that the object 
was an alligator. “Hold on to it ! don’t let it 
go !” were his encouraging words. 

But the captive was too much for the boy, and 
before Clifford or Phil could reach the scene of 
struggle, it went splattering down the bank and 
disappeared beneath the water. 

“Ha, ha, ha,” laughed the leader, thoroughly 
enjoying his first trick on one of his little com- 
pany. “Don’t mind it, a rather wet piece of 
wood which probably would not burn. I think 
it would be well for you to get out your camera,” 
he said to Clifford, as the boys came running 
back to the canoe. “There’s a wonderful cluster 
of palmettoes further up, where you may get a 
snap at a blue heron. The heron makes a superb 
picture at close range.” 

For some time, the canoes were run slowly and 
close to shore. The boys did not ask the reason, 
but they could see that Mr. Green was on the 


32 


SHARK RIVER 


lookout for something. Was he only getting 
ready for another trick? They were puzzled at 
his actions; for now and then he stopped the 
engines and looked carefully along the shore 
line, where they could see no traces of bird or 
beast. 

“Have your camera ready,” were his words to 
Clifford as he leaped ashore and slipped into his 
swimming suit. “We may not have the chance 
to get a photo of an alligator ; they’ll be hard to 
find in the swamps farther up.” 

Then he dived quite close to the shore line. In 
a few seconds he was up. “I’ve found one,” he 
blurted out, “a big one.” 

Taking a deep breath he again disappeared. 
There was a wild struggle ; the water was 
churned and muddy ; the head of a monster alli- 
gator came to the surface; then the creature 
sank, and there was another struggle. 

“It’s eating Mr. Green up !” cried out Clifford 
in a fright. 

Just then, the man’s head showed above the 
muddy water. Then down he went, and another 
fight was on. Up to the surface they came — the 
man and beast; then, back with a struggle. It 
seemed that the monster had the strength to 
tear the man apart with its slimy legs and hor- 
rid teeth. 

“Help! help!” cried Lod. 

“Help ! help !” echoed Clifford, leaping ashore. 

“Mr. Green knows what he’s doing, boys,” 
replied Phil, holding his companions back. “I 
heard him tell Mr. Reed about catching alligators 
alive.” 


SHARK RIVER 33 

“He can’t catch that monster,” protested 
young Savage. 

Up came the man, only to be dragged below. 
Then the alligator was lifted sheer above the sur- 
face by the powerful strength of the man. It 
fought and squirmed, but was powerless. The 
captor had it on his right shoulder with its front 
legs caught tightly in his hands. In this posi- 
tion it could not scratch him or snap at him. 
Slowly he gained the bank and with a sudden 
jerk threw the alligator on its back. 

“I’ve got you,” he cried in triumph. “How is 
that, boys?” 

“Great!” shouted Clifford. 

“Mr. Green, I thought he got you,” stammered 
Lod. 

“You have to know the trick,” explained the 
man, still holding fast to the squirming captive. 
“We’ll take its picture and let it go. I don’t 
believe in killing birds and alligators for the sake 
of saying you did so. Its skin is valuable, but 
we haven’t time to work with it. But it won’t 
hurt the old fellow to take its picture. I 
thought for a while that I’d never get it,” and he 
gasped for breath. 

“Glif wanted to help you, but I remembered 
you telling father that there was no danger.” 

“This must be a real artistic picture,” 
asserted the leader. “We’ll make the critter 
laugh and then he will take a real pretty photo.” 

“Ha! ha!” giggled Lod, “pretty, I reck’n.” 

“Just wait, young fellow.” 

“But Mr. Green, it won’t be pretty; that’s 
impossible.” 


34 


SHARK RIVER 


“He’ll laugli for us, and that will at least 
improve its looks.” 

“It can’t laugh, Mr. Green.” 

“It can’t! you wait and see! Clifford, get 
your camera. Phil, you take his front leg, and 
Lod you take the other. Don’t be afraid. He’s 
one of the party for the present. Slowly, now,” 
he said to the struggling cayman. “You’re not 
ashamed of our company.” 

Mr. Green, with the help of the boys, turned 
the alligator on its stomach and let it struggle 
until it was exhausted. Then he lifted it up, 
with its big jaws towards the camera, the boys 
still holding on to its front legs. After another 
struggle, the lower jaw of the animal dropped, 
giving the appearance of a leer. “Now he’s 
ready for his picture,” called out the leader; 
“you see, he’s laughing.” 

“Why, reck’n it is,” said the astonished Lod. 

Snap ! “Hold him for a second shot,” directed 
Clifford. 

“He’s beginning to enjoy it,” asserted Lod. 

“And he’ll want to join the expedition,” put 
in Phil, almost releasing his hold. “He’s getting 
real tame.” 

In answer to these words a flap from the leg 
sent the boy to the ground; but Mr. Green, who 
was ready for any such emergency, held on to 
his prize until a second picture was taken. 

“Thank you for your kindness.” He released 
the alligator, which went scampering towards 
the water. 

“Won’t you join the crowd?” cried out Phil. 


SHARK RIVER 35 

“He don’t like our company, I reck’n,” said 
Lod. 

“I think I got two good pictures,” claimed the 
artist. 

The cayman was safe in its hole under the 
water by this time, no doubt frightened by its 
strange experience. 

The party was soon off again, laughing and 
talking about the adventure. After the noon 
lunch the progress of the canoes was rendered 
considerably slower, owing to the twisting and 
narrow channel. Great palmetto and magnolia 
trees leaned far out over the water, giving the 
stream a look of enchantment. At times, the 
thick vines interlaced across the entire river. 
Outstretched limbs of live oaks were draped with 
Spanish moss, while often the decaying fronds 
of palmetto trees were garmented with brilliant 
orchids. Heron and plume birds were startled 
from bunches of grass, and at intervals flocks of 
ducks arose from pools of water. More and 
more choked became the river, until it seemed 
that the canoes could not find a passage through 
the beds of blue hyacinth or sleeping pond 
lilies. Off to the sides were patches of cat-tail, 
with occasional clusters of saw grass, a sure 
indication that the Everglades were not far 
away. 

Later in the afternoon the party entered the 
somber shades of the southern extremity of the 
Great Dismal Swamp. Water-moccasions were 
plentiful here, dropping from branches quite 
close over head, or hissing with poisonous fang 


36 


SHARK RIVER 


and refusing to move. Under the careful direc- 
tion of Mr. Green, Clifford pushed his camera 
within three feet of an enormous moccasin, and, 
as he pressed the button, he could easily see the 
glare in the snake’s eye. 

A short time afterwards the propeller of the 
motor boat was clogged with grass and blue hya- 
cinth. After cutting away the obstruction, the 
leader decided to go forward with the single 
canoe and look for a channel. 

“I wonder what he has in that bundle?” asked 
inquisitive Lod, as soon as Mark Green was out 
of hearing. 

“I don’t know,” replied Clifford with pre- 
tended indifference, as he leaped from the Little 
Tarpon to the bank ; “but this dry land feels fine 
after being so long in a canoe.” 

“I know what it is,” claimed Phil. 

“Bet you don’t,” said Lod. 

“What’ll you bet?” 

“Bet you anything ; bet you my knife.” 

“It’s blasting powder!” snapped Phil. 

“How do you know?” 

“Well, I know.” 

“I reck’n you don’t know any more ’bout it 
than Clif and I do.” 

“Well, let’s look at the bundle,” said Phil. 

“No you don’t,” interrupted Clifford, with his 
first appeal to authority ; “Mr. Green told us not 
to touch that bundle, and no one here’s going to 
do it.” And the boy from Virginia stood there 
with the dignity of a Washington. 

“That’s right, I reck’n ; that’s right,” came the 
reply from Kentucky. 


SHARK RIVER 37 

“I was just joking/’ muttered Phil. “Of 
course we must not touch the bundle.” 

“I’m dead anxious to know what is in it,” 
acknowledged young Savage; “but curiosity 
killed the cat, and we don’t want to die just 
now.” 

The click of the motor was heard, and the boys 
ran up the stream to meet the leader. 

“Not very encouraging,” were his words. 
“The vegetation has thickened all around during 
the last two weeks. I never dreamed that water 
lilies and hyacinths could grow so rapidly. It’ll 
be slow work for the next mile; and I don’t know 
what we’ll meet in the Cypress Swamp. I’ve 
decided to camp right here where the ground is 
high. It may delay us for half a day, but I 
don’t relish the prospects of spending the night 
in the Swamp. We may as well have practice 
at raising the tent. Get it out, boys, and see 
whether you can put it up.” 

Soon the canvas cover was removed from the 
Little Tarpon. 

“Mr. Green,” cried out Clifford, “we can’t get 
the tent out.” 

“Of course you can; it isn’t heavy. Two of 
you can lift it.” 

“But, Mr. Green — the — the — ” 

“Oh, I see now; my bundle is on top of the 
tenting. Boys, I want to thank you and con- 
gratulate you. You were asked not to touch the 
bundle, and you have been obedient.” 

Phil hung his head in shame, conscious of the 
fact that he had proposed a furtive examination 
of the mysterious package. 


CHAPTER V 

THROUGH THE “LEADS” AND THE ’GLADES 

G athered around the camp fire that night, Mr. 

Green told the boys of many an adventure 
and of many a long fight with a tarpon. Then 
he sent them to bed early, assuring them that he 
would have them up and started at daybreak. 
With their blankets under them to protect them- 
selves from the damp ground, they were soon 
fast asleep. The leader rested in a hammock 
which he had swung between two cypress trees. 

Awakened early on the following morning by 
the chirping of birds, he was startled to see a 
huge rattlesnake coiled up not six feet from 
his hammock. It did not seem to be aware of 
human intruders. Having neither firearm nor 
stick in reach, the man sat still, thinking of some 
plan to kill the serpent. 

“Why not take its picture?” the thought sud- 
denly came to him. 

With his eyes upon the rattler, he slipped to 
the rear of the tent where the boys were sleep- 
ing. “Boys, boys,” he whispered, “it’s time to 
get up ; but don’t make any noise. Get your cam- 
era ready,” he said to Clifford. 

38 


THROUGH “LEADS” AND ’GLADES 39 


“Another alligator? Why, it’s dark! You 
can’t take pictures now.” 

“Gee! I was dreaming ’bout that alligator,” 
grunted Lod. 

“No noise, no noise,” warned the man. 

“What is it, Mr. Green?” asked Clifford, “and 
how could you see anything while it’s so dark?” 

“Why, it’s lighter than I thought,” acknowl- 
edged Phil, pushing the canvas door of the tent 
aside. 

“Don’t go out, and don’t make any noise,” 
again whispered the leader. “The largest rattle- 
snake in the world is just outside.” 

The flap of the door dropped from Phil’s hand, 
while creepy sensations came over Lod. 

“There’s no danger,” explained the man. 
“It’ll be sufficiently light in a few minutes to take 
the picture. You boys say your morning pray- 
ers, as your parents told you to do, and I’ll 
keep guard over the rattler.” 

It was not long before the leader lifted the 
edge of the tent. There was a commotion inside. 
“Don’t be frightened,” he said ; “we have enough 
light now for the picture.” 

“Ain’t you going to kill the snake first?” asked 
Clifford, who did not relish the idea of photo- 
ing a live rattlesnake. 

“No! no! the object of this expedition is to 
make a collection of birds and beasts, just as they 
are in nature. Come out on this side, boys.” 

The unwelcome intruder was to all appear- 
ances asleep in an open space. 

“Here, Lod, you take this long stick,” said the 


40 THROUGH “LEADS” AND 'GLADES 

man, “and this for you, Phil. We’ll keep the 
rattler interested so that it won’t object to hav- 
ing its picture taken.” He had scarcely said the 
words, when the head of the snake shot out from 
under the coils, and the rattles beat a death warn- 
ing to the crowd. 

“Stand quietly, boys,” said Mr. Green, putting 
himself between them and the enemy. “He is 
too far away to do any damage. Clifford, you 
stand right here ; we’ll go around. Just keep this 
far away from him, boys, and there is no dan- 
ger.” 

The snake was evidently bewildered by the ac- 
tion of the four persons, all of whom kept at a 
safe distance. At a signal from Mr. Green, the 
two boys waved their sticks in the air. The 
rattler seemed frantic, and tossed its head 
high in the air, with its fangs darting out in de- 
fiance. 

“Ready now,” directed Mr. Green. “He’s tak- 
ing a fine position. Now — now — snap it.” 

“I’ve got it,” replied Clifford. 

“Take another picture.” 

Again the irritated snake was snapped. 

As it had been agreed not to use a gun on the 
expedition, unless necessary, the leader stepped 
up to kill the monster with a stick. Since he 
wore heavy leggings there was no danger of his 
being bitten. One blow of the heavy club sent 
the snake groveling on the ground, where it was 
soon dispatched. 

“This is not a killing expedition,” remarked 
the leader, “and we are not going to destroy a 


THROUGH “LEADS” AND ’GLADES 41 


life that may be useful ; but rattlesnakes are use- 
ful to no one, and a monster like this is too dan- 
gerous to be allowed to live.” 

It measured seven feet and had nine rattles. 
“We’ll take the rattles along for a keepsake,” 
Mr. Green remarked, as with his sharp hunting 
knife he severed them from the body. 

The dew was still trickling from the branches 
overhead when the two canoes were shoved out 
into the stream. And now was unfolded before 
the view of the party a wondrous growth of blue 
water-hyacinth. While the tenacious roots and 
stems of the flowers obstructed the currents and 
made navigation all but impossible, no one could 
doubt the beauty of the scene which they pre- 
sented. After several attempts, Mr. Green suc- 
ceeded in forcing his canoes through the floating 
islands of purple and green; only, however, to 
run into stagnant pools of pond-lilies and cat- 
tails. Innumerable birds arose in fright, 
screaming as they sailed over the disturbed wa- 
ters. 

“Another big snake,” cried out Lod, as his 
attention was directed to a writhing object not 
twenty feet in front of the first canoe. 

“What kind of a snake is it?” asked Mr. Green. 

“I know,” asserted Phil, for he had seen this 
creature on the occasion of his former visit to 
the Everglades. 

“Let the others guess,” put in the leader. 
“Well, Clifford, is that a rattler or a moccasin?” 

“It looks more like a black snake,” replied the 
boy. 


42 THROUGH “LEADS” AND ’GLADES 


“And, Lod, you bet your knife that it’s a — • 
well — what is it?” 

“Moccasin.” 

“Wrong; lost your knife.” 

“Black snake.” 

“Wrong again.” 

“Rattle — ” but just then a peculiar looking 
bird started from the water. It looked like a 
duck or a diver. 

“It isn’t a snake,” exclaimed Phil, proud that 
he could impart this knowledge to his young 
companions; “it’s a water turkey.” 

“It doesn’t look like a turkey,” objected Lod. 

“No, but that is what it is called; its long neck 
makes it look like a snake.” 

Soon the current narrowed, and patches 
of hyacinth and lilies became less frequent. The 
party was entering into the somber shadows of 
the cypress swamp. The Great Dismal Swamp 
it is called, and well does it deserve the name. 
For five hours the Shark River wound through 
this region of shadows. At times it was neces- 
sary to use an ax to cut away a palmetto trunk 
which had fallen sheer across the stream. Giant 
magnolia trees, laden with sweetest and whit- 
est blossoms, leaned far out over the waters. The 
luxuriant branches of live oak were so interlaced 
with vines and hung with heavy moss that the 
light of the sun with difficulty penetrated this 
curtain of nature. Towering above the other 
trees were the great cypresses, centuries old; 
they stood the solemn guardians of this world of 
semi-darkness. With roots firmly set, they de- 


THROUGH “LEADS” AND ’GLADES 43 


fied the ravages of winds; with their great 
branches rising high above the other trees, they 
opened their tops like the outstretched forms of 
huge, green umbrellas. 

The leader was intent on watching the elusive 
channel, while huddled together the boys spoke 
but little, and then only in whispers. But with 
searching eyes they scanned every bush along the 
banks and every branch overhead, for here and 
there a moccasin w’as seen dropping into the 
water. 

Finally, rays of light came filtering through 
the canopy of leaves; patches of dry land were 
visible, cypress trees became smaller and less 
numerous, and an occasional pine reared its head 
above the other trees. 

“Look out !” was the alarm from the boatman. 

“Moccasin!” cried Clifford. 

“And a big one!” shouted Phil as he ducked 
in the canoe. 

“Gee, Moses!” came the prolonged words of 
Lod ; “big as a rail in a rail fence.” 

“We’ll call this snake day,” said Mr. Green, 
stopping the engine, “and we’ll take a picture of 
this fellow. You see, it’s posing.” 

The reptile seemed to have no intention of leav- 
ing the dead branch around which it was curled. 
Repeatedly it darted its hissing tongue towards 
the party, only to withdraw its head back to the 
branch. 

Camera in hand, Clifford stepped out on the 
bank, followed by Mr. Green, who was to direct 


44 THROUGH “LEADS” AND ’GLADES 

the boy and keep him at a safe distance from the 
snake. 

“It certainly’s anxious to have its picture 
taken/’ affirmed the man. “Proud as the serpent 
that tempted Eye! You see, boys, I know some- 
thing about the Bible even if I don’t say my 
prayers every day.” 

Throwing a cloth over his head to be able to 
get the focus, Clifford heard Mr. Green direct- 
ing him to come closer. 

“Come closer.” 

The boy moved. 

“Closer, closer ! there’s no danger.” 

“I have a fine focus,” answered the artist. 

“Yes, but we want a close view — a big pic- 
ture.” 

“How is that?” 

“Closer, closer.” 

“Why, Mr. Green, how close am I?” 

“Come on three steps further; no danger. 
There — there — now snap.” 

Just as the shutter closed, a heavy stick 
brought the snake to the ground. Peeping from 
under the cloth, Clifford saw that he was stand- 
ing within a foot of the dead reptile. 

# “Don’t be frightened, boy ; I wanted a close 
view. I had my stick right over the snake’s head 
ready to hit, if it made a motion towards you. 

I saw that it was watching you. I’ll venture 
that no one has ever before snapped a moccasin 
at such close range.” 

The dead snake was then coiled on the ground 
and another picture was taken. 


THROUGH “LEADS” AND ’GLADES 45 


“I reck’n we’re regular snake hunters,” said 
young Speaks, as he viewed the moccasin. 

“It looks like the devil,” put in Clifford. 

“The devil’s dead! We won’t have to pray 
against temptations!” shouted Lod. 

“And we’ll call Mr. Green the devil-killer,” as- 
serted Phil. 

“From what I know about the devil, boys, he 
has done lots of harm in this world; and if he 
has turned himself into a snake the second time, 
I’m proud of having the honor of killing him. 
But if it is the devil, he’s got lots of relatives in 
this swamp.” 

Half an hour after resuming the voyage, the 
party readied the edge of the Everglades. 

“That’s it! that’s the place!” yelled Phil as 
he clapped his hands with delight. “Oh, I never 
thought I’d get back so soon!” 

“Well, it isn’t much to look at,” interrupted 
the leader. “I could never understand why peo- 
ple went in ecstasies over the Everglades. Just 
a big field covered with water, overgrown with 
saw-grass, and dotted with islands, or, as we call 
them, hummocks.” 

“It does look like a field,” assented Clifford. 

“But field or no field,” added the leader, 
“when we reach my island we’ll have the time of 
our lives. Let’s get a good start ! It’s probable 
that we’ll sleep in our canoe to-night, for I don’t 
count on finding a dry spot before sunset.” 

All agreed that it was best to push out at once 
into the Everglades. 

The current of the Shark River was not en- 


46 THROUGH “LEADS” AND ’GLADES 


tirely lost in the quiet waters. Mr. Green found 
a wide lead or channel, and made steady prog- 
ress for an hour; then the motor was suddenly 
clogged with grass. Before resuming the yoyage, 
the leader pointed out to the boys a large cypress 
tree at the edge of the Great Dismal Swamp. 
The swamp itself was clearly defined against the 
western horizon, and high above the ridge of 
trees stood the lonely cypress — the guide-post for 
many a Seminole Indian. 

Looking back, the boys could trace their path 
through the broken grass; it was evident that 
Mr. Green was following an old Indian trail, and 
that the heavy canoe of the Seminoles had 
marked this road through the saw-grass. They 
could also see parts of the path over which they 
were yet to go. 

The party slept that night in the Rand . All 
the next day the progress of the two canoes was 
rapid, as the motor could be used most of the 
time. Luckily, the voyagers were able to find 
a dry hummock late in the afternoon of the sec- 
ond day, and here they spent the night. With 
an early start on the following morning, with 
perfect weather and many open leads, they 
reached their island at sunset on the third day. 

Lod blew a long note with his tin horn; all 
the party cheered, as a volley was fired with rifles 
and pistols. 

Mr. Green then went to the rear canoe and 
took from it the mysterious bundle. Putting it 
on the shore and covering it with a blanket, 
he turned to the boys in solemn words and said : 


THROUGH “LEADS” AND ’GLADES 47 


“Boys, we’ve reached our island home in the 
Everglades. Some day you will know the con- 
tents of this box. I asked you not to touch it; 
I ask you now not to open it, until I give per- 
mission.” 

The boys renewed their promise, and the work 
of unloading began. 


CHAPTER VI 
“lookout island” 

W ell, here we are, boys ; and a fine morning 
to begin our camping. I’ve been around 
the island and have decided to call it 'Lookout,’ 
for that big bay tree in front of you has often 
been used by Indians for observation. I want to 
say, too, that if there’s a box of gold in the Ever- 
glades, you’ve a chance to find it here; for this 
island stands in the direct and shortest route 
across the southern part of Florida.” 

The boys had just gathered around to enjoy 
the warm coffee and toast which Mr. Green had 
prepared before awaking them. 

Phil’s eyes opened wide when the box of gold 
was mentioned. He and the other boys had so 
often talked of this expedition and conjectured 
about the gold that it had become all but a re- 
ality to them. It seemed to Phil that he had but 
to eat his breakfast and then go out and get the 
treasure. "We’re going to look for it every day, 
Mr. Green,” he said. 

“All luck to you, boys,” was the reply. “I’ll 
do most of the cooking, and you’ll have little else 
to do but fish and look for the box.” 

48 


‘‘LOOKOUT ISLAND” 


49 


“I reek’ii, that’s fine,” said the Kentuckian. 

“What about the rowing and swimming?” 
asked Clifford. 

“After we find the gold,” replied Phil ear- 
nestly. 

“We’ve come for a trip and a vacation,” 
claimed Clifford; “we can’t work all day look- 
ing for the gold.” 

“I know what you want,” put in Lod. “You 
want to take pictures all day. Suppose Phil and 
I work and find the gold, who’s going to get it?” 

“Well, I’m the official photographer. I’ve got 
to develop the pictures of the alligator and the 
snakes; and now I’m asked to work all day.’’ 

“Not all day,” claimed Lod. “If you take pic- 
tures, and we find the gold, who’s going to get 
it? That’s what I w r ant to know — who is going 
to get the gold?” 

“Well, I’ll give up all right to the gold unless 
I myself find it,” was the reply. 

“Don’t do that,” interrupted the leader. “Al- 
though we’re out for a pleasure trip, I’m going 
to plant vegetables and stake off about a hun- 
dred acres, so as to put in a claim for the 
ground; but I don’t lose my claim to a part of 
the gold. Clifford, don’t give up yours.” 

“Then, I reckon he’ll have to work,” said Lod 
with a laugh. 

“Oh, I can do more work than you two little 
kids together.” 

“Bet you my knife you can’t I’ve worked on 
my uncle’s farm; I know what work is.” 

“But taking pictures and developing them is 


50 


“LOOKOUT ISLAND ’ 


just as much work as rowing around looking for 
a box,” argued Clifford. 

“Let us settle it in this way,” suggested the 
leader; “we’ll call it all play. I’m going to do 
the cooking and that'll be play. I’m going to 
work in my new garden and that’ll be play. I’m 
going to play by driving stakes out in the 
’Glades. We are all going to play as long as we 
stay here; and if we find the gold box, we’ll find 
it playing, and we’ll divide it up so that every- 
body will get his share.” 

As this plan seemed satisfactory to all, the 
play started. The two tents, which had been 
hastily raised for the night, were moved to a 
higher place, partially protected by the shade of 
a huge live oak. There was space for cooking 
under this same tree, with an arrangement for 
inside work in case of rain. A bench was made 
of a split pine-trunk, and a table constructed 
of rough pine planks. Provisions w T ere hung on 
stakes to protect them from ants. 

When dinner-time came, the boys agreed that 
the first part of the play was rather strenuous. 
It grew warm, too; and all were anxious to en- 
joy a rest during the hot afternoon. 

Lookout Island was of oval shape, about four 
hundred feet in length and half as wide. Na- 
ture seemed to have collected there a variety of 
trees; but the bay tree predominated. With its 
smooth trunk and slender branches it resembled 
the wild cherry tree of the north. Its leaves 
when crushed gave forth a pungent odor, and 


“LOOKOUT ISLAND” 51 

when dried could be used for making a rather 
pleasant drink. 

When the boys had been refreshed by a rest, 
and the heat had become somewhat tempered 
by a cloud, Mr. Green suggested that the party 
go in search of snakes. Much to the surprise of 
all, not a reptile could be found. However, this 
did not secure the party from all danger, as both 
rattlers and moccasins were known to swim for 
long distances in a few hours. 

“Well,” said the photographer., as all four 
walked towards camp at dusk, “we get no more 
pictures to-day.” 

“Not of snakes, we hope;” and Phil related 
an instance of a big black snake which he had 
killed on his former trip to the Everglades. 

“There may be a dozen here before morning,” 
explained the leader. “Besides, there is no tell- 
ing how many birds we’ll find later. I saw whole 
flocks of them this morning before you boys were 
up. Look across there,” he said, pointing to- 
wards a hummock which was heavily wooded; 
“that seems to be a rookery. Our large island 
has been used as camping grounds so often that 
bird life has been frightened away; and once 
birds forsake a place it is a long time before they 
return.” 

“I reck’n there’s a large bird,” cried Lod. 

“A duck,” said Clifford. 

“I know,” claimed Phil, “it’s a limpkin.” 

“You are right, lad,” said the man; “and it’s 
making for one of the palmettoes at the end of 


m 


“LOOKOUT ISLAND’’ 


the island. Let ns visit the family,” he continued, 
as the bird alighted on the tree. 

Again Phil told his companions of his being 
frightened by such birds, and of a large rattler 
which had driven him from a tree when he at- 
tempted to climb to a nest. 

“It has young ones,” declared Phil, when the 
party drew near the palmetto; “don’t you hear 
them crying for the mother?” 

“The way they’re jabbering, I’ll bet you my 
knife they’re half starved,” said Lod. “Gee ! but 
those young ones can make a noise !” 

“No doubt, the old one has been watching 
us all day and has been afraid to fly to the nest,” 
explained the man. “Look! the youngsters are 
almost full grown.” The fledglings were now 
standing on the edge of the nest flapping their 
wings as if in an attempt at first flight. “Clif, 
you must take a picture; for it isn’t every day 
that one finds a young limpkin, or any kind of 
limpkin, as far as that matters. The bird is get- 
ting very rare.” 

“If there’re no snakes boarding in the tree, 
I’ll climb it,” ventured Phil. 

“Battlers often hide in the branches of pal- 
metto,” acknowledged Mr. Green. “We’d better 
knock at the door before we try to enter the 
house.” 

Bang! bang! went several sticks against the 
trunk of the tree. Down came the decayed 
fronds in a shower, and with the fronds came 
the top of the palmetto and with the top of the 
palmetto came the nest and young limpkins. 


“LOOKOUT ISLAND” 


53 


How the little limpkins screeched and clawed, 
while the mother bird sailed overhead. But the 
young one3 could not fly; and by some petting 
were induced to sit on a branch and have their 
pictures taken. 

“Well,” declared Clifford, as he clicked the 
camera, “I certainly have a collection. To-night 
I’ll develop the films to see what kind of a job 
I made with snakes, the alligator, and young 
limpkins.” 

“What’ll we do with the young birds?” Lod 
wanted to know. 

“I was thinking of making a breakfast on 
them,” replied Mr. Green, “but they are a little 
too young for cooking.” 

“Let us make a coop and keep ’em,” suggested 
Phil. 

“Very well,” said the man; “but we’ll let the 
old bird take care of them to-night.” 

The little creatures were placed on a scrub 
palmetto whose fronds formed a natural nest. 
The party had gone but a short distance when 
the mother bird was with her young ones. 

After supper, Clifford went into the tent to 
develop the films. “He’s laughing! he's laugh- 
ing!” cried out the boy rushing from the tent 
with a negative in his hands. “He’s laughing! 
Look at the alligator !” and he held up the nega- 
tive before Mr. Green. 

“Right you are, boy; a laugh, a real laugh.” 

“I reck’n he is,” joined in Lod. 

“Big lips, and a nigger laugh,” shouted Phil. 

“A real nigger laugh,” put in Clifford, “a 


54 “LOOKOUT ISLAND” 

real nigger laugh, with a grin from ear to ear.” 

Just before the picture was taken, the lower 
jaw of the alligator had dropped, giving the 
creature a peculiar leer. 

The negative of the rattler was not so clear, 
but the moccasin came out well. And the limp- 
kins. How the boys laughed at the little limp- 
kins ! What queer little bundles of snowy feath- 
ers: and each was crying for its mother! 


CHAPTER VII 


WORK OR PLAY 

C lifford Savage was the first of the boys to 
awake on the following morning. Hearing 
the ring of an ax outside the tent, he crept from 
his cot and found the leader hard at work cutting 
willow poles. 

“Good morning, Mr. Green,” he said, and see- 
ing the number of saplings, he continued, “you 
must have worked all night.” 

“Not at all,” came the reply, “I cut them all 
in less than an hour. This is the time to work 
in Florida. We must have two landings — one 
close at hand for the canoe and one further down 
the island for fishing and bathing. If you wish 
to get a fine view of the Everglades,” he contin- 
ued, “take this glass and climb to the top of the 
bay tree. The sight is wonderful. Books would 
call it sublime, or something like that.” 

Up to the top of the tree the boy went, and 
before using his glass gazed out over the awaking 
Everglades. The sun was just climbing over the 
distant hummocks, which seemed to sway with the 
drifting fog banks. It was a scene beautiful with 
its artistic blending of cloud and water and 
island. 

Then the boy took up the glass, a finely ad- 
55 


56 


WOKK OR PLAY 


justed instrument belonging to the Tarpon and 
watched the hummocks go floating away with the 
scurrying fogs. Then to the left he turned, and 
there before his vision was the outline of Great 
Dismal Swamp. The cypress trees twenty-five 
miles away could be plainly seen rising above the 
clumps of smaller growth. Bringing the glass to 
bear upon the islands which were closer, the boy 
was surprised to find how clearly every tree and 
branch stood out. On one hummock especially 
the awakening bird life attracted his attention, 
for thousands of the winged creatures were arriv- 
ing and departing. He could distinguish the 
stately blue herons wading in the shallow water, 
the black cormorants sailing off in flocks, the 
snowy plumage of egrets, flitting in and out of 
the green foliage. 

So fascinating was the scene that the boy 
returned to the lookout each day to gaze out over 
the watery waste. Sometimes he went many 
times a day, for the ever shifting panorama 
seemed to lure him to the top of the bay tree. 
Never was the view the same; the fog banks of 
morning were sometimes fleecy clouds, sometimes 
wondrous piles of dissolving gold; while the 
shafts of evening were pink or purple, or all 
aglow with fiery crimson. By repeated study 
the boy became familiar with every hummock; 
and he could trace the “lead” over which they 
came, for the saw grass was bent or broken by 
the canoes. 

“I can see the big Cypress Swamp,” he called 
to the leader. 


WORK OR PLAY 


57 


“And can you find the dead’ along which we 
passed?” 

“Was just looking at it.” 

“What do the distant hummocks look like?” 

“They seem to be floating away like so many 
boats.” 

“Exactly, boy, exactly. And now have you 
found the rookery?” 

“You mean the island with so many birds on 
it?” 

“Precisely; have you found it?” 

“Yes, sir; and I can see hundreds of birds wad- 
ing and flying.” 

“You have a good eye.” 

The conversation was interrupted by Lod who 
came out of the tent yawning and rubbing his 
eyes. “What’s all this noise,” he asked, “can’t you 
let a fellow sleep?” 

“Sleep?” asked the leader; “sleep! how much 
sleep do you w T ant? Most people in Florida have 
finished half a day’s work by this time. There’s 
another sleepy head,” and Mr. Green pointed at 
Phil, who just then emerged from the tent. 

“Golly ! a fellow can sleep here,” said Phil. 

“And eat, too,” put in Lod. 

“There’s no doubt about the eating part,” 
acknowledged the leader. “I only wonder how 
long our provisions are going to last at this rate. 
I think there should be pretty good fishing at 
the lower end of the island. I’m going to make 
a landing for fishing, and one for the canoes.” 

“Why, Mr. Green,” asked Lod, “when did you 
cut all those poles?” 


58 


WORK OR PLAY 


“Just a little playtime early in the morning. 
Remember, we are to play a short time each day. 
I have had my playing at sunrise.” 

“I reck’n there ain’t much playing about that,” 
protested Lod. 

“Well, it’s interesting work. Now that I have 
the poles cut, the hardest part of the work or play 
is over.” 

“Look at the big nails,” cried out Phil. 
“Where did they come from, Mr. Green?” 

“I had them in one of the packages. I knew 
that we’d need a landing so I provided the 
spikes.” 

“It takes lots of things for camping, doesn’t 
it?” 

“That it does; and it takes more experience 
than I have had to calculate the amount of provi- 
sions. We’ll have to catch more fish, boys, and 
save the canned food and meal.” 

“Won’t we go out in the canoes to fish 
after you make the landing?” Lod wanted to 
know. 

“We’ll try both. I intend to throw everything 
left from the table at the end of the pier to attract 
the fish. If the fish don’t come close to the shore, 
we’ll have to go after them. In either case, we 
simply must get them, and get them every day, 
to save our provisions.” 

“But where is Clif ?” asked Lod. 

“I thought he was helping you to cut the poles.” 

“Of course he is,” came the reply from the top 
of the bay tree; “been working while you two 
were sleeping.” 


WORK OR PLAY 59 

“Yes, that’s the way you generally work — 
sitting up in a tree. Do you call that work?” 

“Certainly, I am taking observations.” 

“You were taking a rest.” 

“Well, you were resting in bed.” 

“I reck’n I was ; but I didn’t claim to be work- 
ing. I know I was resting, and everybody else 
knew it.” 

“Remember that we don’t do any work on this 
island,” put in the leader; “we only play; but 
we’ll have lots of play to-day, so let’s get break- 
fast and start the play agoing. The first part of 
the play will be to construct the boat landing; 
this should not take over two hours. The second 
game will be longer; in fact, it may take us the 
greater part of the day. But as you boys will be 
in the water most of the time, you’ll not perspire 
much in playing the game.” 

All w r ere surprised when the boat landing was 
finished in less than an hour. It was a simple 
structure of three rows of stakes and extended 
fifteen feet into the water. It was just as high 
as the gunwale of the canoes, and was partly 
shaded by a large branch of a willow. At the 
end of the pier there were two stakes for tying the 
craft. 

As the party stood admiring the landing, Lod 
suddenly cried out: “I see a large fish!” 

“You’re only fooling us,” said Clifford. 

“Bet you my knife I saw it,” snapped the lad. 

“Where?” 

“Right there,” and Lod pointed to the place. 

“He wants to stay here in the shade and fish 


60 WORK OR PLAY 

while we work on the other landing,” asserted 
Phil. 

“Don't say, ‘work on the other landing;' but 
say ‘play with the other landing/ ” the leader 
insisted. 

“Lod doesn’t want to play with ns; he wants 
to sit here and rest and pretend that he is really 
doing something,” argued Phil, pretending to be 
serious. 

“Well, Clif said he was working when he was 
only sitting up in the bay tree,” replied Lod ; “so 
I’ll be working when I am sitting here on the 
new landing.” 

“It is just possible that the noise and the driv- 
ing of the poles in the water may have attracted 
a few sheepheads,” explained the leader. “Only 
three of us can work on — I mean play — with the 
other landing. I move that Lod be appointed to 
try his luck. Maybe he’ll land something for 
supper. Since he was the first to see the fish, let 
him try his luck.” Turning to the boy he contin- 
ued, “While we carry the poles to the place of the 
other landing, you go over and catch some fiddler- 
crabs. Then after dinner try your luck! try 
your luck!” 

Late that afternoon when the second landing 
was almost finished, Lod came running to the 
bank, carrying a sheephead which weighed fully 
five pounds. “Here he is ! here he is !” he cried 
out in wild delight. 

The boy’s clothes were wet and muddy, for in 
his excitement the little fisherman had dragged 
the prize to the edge of the water and caught the 


WORK OR PLAY 


61 


line in a bunch of weeds, making it necessary for 
him to wade out and get the landing net under 
the fish. 

“Is it the same one you saw this morning?” 
asked the astonished Clifford. 

“Reckon so.” 

“Good for you!” exclaimed the leader; “try 
your luck again.” 

“Gee! didn’t know fish would come around so 
soon,” said Phil. 

“That shows you have something to learn 
about the ’Glades,” was the reply of Mr. Green. 

Lod was soon back at his place, but met with 
no further success. Day after day did he fish 
from the boat landing, but never did he pull in 
another fish at this place. 

The second landing was finished an hour before 
sunset; and the deep water around promised to 
be an excellent fishing hole. 

All that afternoon and during supper, the 
conversation turned on a trip to the hummock 
where Mr. Green and Clifford had seen so many 
birds. The boys were promised an outing there 
on the following day. 

“I’m sure you’ll find hundreds of nests and 
specimens on that wooded hummock,” explained 
the leader. “I want to do some surveying and get 
my garden started. You can call to-morrow 
‘rookery day.’ Take a lunch, and spend the 
entire day in exploring the island. But you’re 
not to have any guns with you. Clif can do the 
shooting with his camera.” 

This order was not a disappointment for the 


62 


WORK OR PLAY 


boys. They welcomed an opportunity to explore 
a hummock where, perhaps, no white man had 
ever landed or camped. 

Mr. Green had an object in view in sending 
the boys away on an all-day expedition; for he 
wished to put together the mysterious box and to 
hide it in some lead where the boys would prob- 
ably go fishing, and discover the supposed treas- 
ure. 


CHAPTER VIII 

OFF TO THE ROOKERY 

B efore the faintest rays of morning were vis- 
ible, Mr. Green had the boys out of their cots, 
and after a hasty breakfast started them off to 
the rookery. They reached the island as day was 
breaking. 

The hummock was astir with bird life, and 
noisy with fledglings crying for their early meal. 
A flock of great white ibises sailed away to hunt 
for shrimps; little blue herons dropped into the 
shallow waters near by to search for frogs ; birds 
of snowy plumage went fishing for minnows and 
small perch; while egrets of wondrous beauty 
darted from the tops of the feathery palm trees. 
The birds seemed to be unconscious of the 
approach of the boys, who left their canoe and 
w r alked beneath the impending trees and vines. 

“It’s too dark for pictures here,” whispered 
Clifford, who was the first to speak. 

“I reck’n it’s like a cave,” said Lod, recalling 
an experience among the limestone cliffs of his 
native state. 

The faint light scarcely filtered through the 
heavy foliage; but soon the boys became accus- 
tomed to the semi-darkness, and to their surprise 
63 


64 


OFF TO THE ROOKERY 


beheld above them and on every side myriads of 
nests, and on the ground fragments of eggshells 
of every size and color. Then they observed little 
necks twisting, and little eyes peeping; and they 
heard squawking voices in broken choruses. 

“They’re just waking up,” explained Phil. 

“And crying for breakfast,” added Clifford. 

“Look at that funny nest,” said Phil. 

“That’s a wasp’s nest” claimed Lod; and so it 
proved to be, with many a little watchman ready 
to attack any intruder. The boys thought it 
prudent to step aside and leave the inhabitants 
undisturbed. 

“There’s a big white bird,” whispered Lod, 
as the crooked bill of a curlew was visible over the 
side of a nest. Mother curlew eyed the strangers, 
but seemed unwilling to depart from her home, 
filled as it was with little black babies. But as 
they would grow white when older, she was not 
ashamed of them. 

“That would make a fine picture, if we only 
had the light,” said the photographer. 

“Notice how bright it is getting,” put in Phil, 
for a few rays of the rising sun now pierced the 
leafy canopy overhead. 

“Let’s w r ait; and if it gets light enough, we’ll 
take our first picture,” said Clifford. “I want to 
get some photos of birds on their nests.” 

The boys were surprised at how fast the woods 
seemed to brighten. “That bird is setting,” con- 
tinued Clifford; “I don’t think it will fly away. 
We’ll wait here, and when it’s light I’ll climb that 
bay tree and get a shot at the curlew from above.” 


OFF TO THE ROOKERY 


65 


The boys did not have to wait long before the 
photographer decided that he had sufficient light 
for a picture. “Don’t get frightened, old lady,” 
said he, as, camera in hand, he pulled himself up 
a small live oak. Then he crept out on a branch 
until he was within three feet of the nest. The 
mother bird did not stir, and Clifford got what 
he thought would be a good picture. 

Morning had now fully broken, and the boys’ 
eyes had become accustomed to the subdued 
light. On they wandered through the tunnels 
which nature had carved under the semi- 
tropical growth. Few feet had ever trodden this 
island, which lay in all its wondrous, primeval 
beauty. 

The boys collected specimens of nests and 
found eggs of every size and variety. Clifford 
got artistic pictures of bird life in every form and 
under every condition ; wee little fledglings with 
necks stretched out for food; funny little crea- 
tures half grown, but with no signs of feathers; 
awkward youngsters, attempting to fly; mother 
birds looking with lustrous and curious eyes from 
nests w T hich they refused to desert; big cormo- 
rants and little blue herons posing for the artist; 
and great blue herons stalking slowly through 
shoals and patches of white-petaled, pink-tinged 
pond lilies. 

“I wish I could take a picture of colors,” 
exclaimed Clifford, as he approached a yellow 
jasmine which was swinging its delicate vines 
over the branches of a magnolia tree. 

“They are good flowers,” put in Phil; “but I 


66 


OFF TO THE ROOKERY 


want to find another kind of gold. I want to find 
the box of gold.” 

“We’ve seen nearly everything around; so its 
about time to look for the box,” said Clifford. 

“And we must look for it every day,” insisted 
Phil. 

“Of course, we must.” 

“And we ought to start in the morning.” 

“Yes.” 

“And work all day until we find it ; then we can 
take a rest.” 

“But how do you know that we’ll ever find it?” 

“Gee! we’re going to find it, all right!” 

“You’re not sure!” 

“ ’Course I am. We’re out here to find the box, 
and we’re going to do it.” 

“But you’re not sure where it is.” 

“’Course not, or we’d get it at once; but it’s 
here, and all we have to do is to look for it.” 

“But this is a big place; and it might take a 
lifetime to look everywhere in the ’Glades.” 

“’Course it’s big. I know that, for I’ve been 
here twice.” 

“But you don’t know just where the gold is 
hid.” 

“I reck’n it’ll be fun looking for it,” broke in 
Lod, who had been collecting a bunch of the yel- 
low flowers; “and I bet you my knife that we 
find it.” 

“That old knife of yours!” retorted Clifford. 
“You’ve bet it and lost it fifty times!” 

“Bet you I haven’t! Bet my knife we find the 
box!” 


OFF TO THE ROOKERY 


67 


“Well, we’re going to keep right on trying,” 
asserted Phil. 

On through the island the boys wandered, lis- 
tening to the calls of hungry birdlings, and 
startling older birds from their repose amid the 
dark foliage. 

After lunch, they rested and slept, slept so long 
and soundly, that the afternoon was far advanced 
when they awoke. 

In the meanwhile, Mr. Green had disposed of 
the mysterious box. The boys had scarcely left 
the island when the leader began to fit together 
the parts of the chest. Unnoticed, he had slipped 
several stones into the canoe, for he knew that 
he would not be able to find any on the island. 
Into the chest the stones were placed, and the 
box was securely fastened. 

After selecting several pieces of wood to replace 
the box, and carefully covering the package with 
the oilcloth, Mr. Green carried the chest to the 
canoe and pushed off to find a place where he 
would conceal the supposed treasure. 

For two hours he searched through the differ- 
ent leads for a good fishing-ground, — a pool where 
the water would not be too shallow, and still not 
so deep that it would be very difficult to find the 
sunken chest. 

After some examination he found a pool where 
the water was about eight feet in depth and 
where there was no current. It promised, too, to 
be an excellent place for fishing. Here the mys- 
terious box was sunk. 

“Now for the fun and the joke on the boys !” 


68 


OFF TO THE ROOKERY 


muttered the leader to himself. He turned the 
prow of the canoe towards Lookout Island. 

But in the meanwhile, the boys had forgotten 
their resolution to search for the gold chest. 
Their chief topic of conversation was a bear hunt, 
for on awaking from his nap that afternoon Lod 
was frightened to see some large, dark object 
moving through the mangrove bushes. 

“I saw a bear !” said he, shaking Clifford, who 
was lying near him. 

“Dreams! dreams!” ejaculated the yawning 
boy. 

“No! I saw it right over there.” 

“An old stump, a bush or something!” 

“I reck’n not. IT1 bet you my knife it was a 
bear; for it w T as big and black.” 

“Why didn’t you shout?” 

“I was too scared.” 

“What’s all this noise about?” asked Phil, who 
stretched his cramped limbs. 

“Lod’s been dreaming.” 

“Dreaming nothing!” protested the lad. “I 
saw something black moving in the bushes. It 
looked like a bear.” 

“So it only looked like a bear,” put in Clifford. 

“Well, what could it be? I reck’n it wasn’t a 
deer; for I’d have seen its horns. And it wasn’t 
a man, for he couldn’t get here.” 

“What about an Indian?” Phil wanted to 
know. 

“Well, he couldn’t get here either.” 

“How’d you know?” 

“Where’s his canoe?” 


OFF TO THE ROOKERY 


69 


“It may be hid.” 

“Well, it was something big and black-looking. 
Say, boys, its getting dark; we’d better be mov- 
ing.” 

A creepy sensation came over the boys ; and on 
their way to the edge of the hummock, each of 
the party unconsciously strove to be first. 

“Canoe’s gone !” gasped Lod, reaching the 
water’s edge. 

“Bear took it !” Clifford tried to laugh. 

“Both wrong,” cried Phil, whose more prac- 
ticed eye took in at a glance that this was not the 
place where they had landed; both wrong!” he 
repeated. “We didn’t land here!” 

“We did, too,” claimed Lod. 

“Didn’t.” 

“Katy did and katy didn’t,” and Clifford Sav- 
age tried to conceal his real fear. 

“I’ll show you where the canoe is; it’s right 
over there !” and in a few seconds Phil had led his 
two companions to the craft. 

“Golly! I was scared!” acknowledged Lod. 

“And it isn’t getting dark,” Clifford breathed 
more freely as he stood at the side of the canoe 
and saw the sun still high in the heavens. 

When Mr. Green heard of the incident, he at 
once suggested a thorough investigation of the 
island. “We’ll leave the camera at home,” said 
he, “and take our rifle and automatics. If 
there’s a bear living on the rookery we’ll tan his 
skin and use his fat for cooking. We need lard ; 
here is our chance to get it. Besides, boys,” he 
added, “bears are not dangerous ; except the griz- 


70 


OFF TO THE ROOKERY 


zly, which is not found down here, they’ll get 
out of the way just as fast as a bird. I had 
thought of giving you a bear hunt before the 
expedition ended. But to-morrow we must go 
a-fishing, not for the sport of it, but because we 
need fish for our meals.” 


CHAPTER IX 


NEARING THE TREASURE 

ell, boys,” said the leader, after a rather 



late breakfast on the following morn- 


ing, “we must get a few fish for dinner; in fact, 
we should catch some for almost every meal, as 
our supplies must be saved as much as possible.” 

“We’re all ready,” went up a chorus in reply. 

“Take the steel boat and try your luck; I’ll 
do some work around the camp and then make 
soundings. Some day this is to be my home, and 
I am to have an orange grove near by; it’ll all 
depend on where the water is shallow and the 
soil deep.” 

“Will you let us work for you?” asked Clifford. 

“Work! well I don’t see much work in this 
crowd, except at meals. I thought I had provi- 
sions for a month, but they’re looking short 
already.” 

“Gee! Mr. Green, I reck’n a fellow does get 
hungry out in the air all day,” said Lod. 

“I think we ought to have four meals a day,” 
added Phil. 

“If you youngsters keep on this way,” laughed 
the leader, “we’ll soon be eating one meal a day, 
and that on saw grass.” 


71 


72 NEARING THE TREASURE 

“Well, weTl show you how to get enough fish 
for a week,” said Phil. 

“You’ve had some experience,” acknowledged 
the man; “show the others where and how to 
catch a supply.” 

“We’re going after pompans; you know they 
jump into a canoe,” explained Lod. 

“It just suits us,” added Clifford. 

“You’ve told the truth this time,” said Mr. 
Green, with a nod; “told the truth for once in 
your life. But this is your chance to make up 
for all the idle days in the canoes. Bring back 
enough fish for dinner and supper, and I’ll let you 
work in my orange grove.” 

“Say, Mr. Green,” asked Clifford who was 
inclined to take things seriously, “are you joking 
about having an orange grove here?” 

“ ’Course he is !” expostulated Lod. “C-o-m-e 
o-n and go fishin’,” he drawled out in character- 
istic southern accent. 

“You are wrong, young Blue-grasser ;” said 
Mark Green. “If the government dredges work 
as fast as they’ve been doing of late, we’ll have 
to shorten our trip, the water will fall so fast. 
I expect to have a young citron grove planted 
before any one in this crowd begins to shave.” 

“Clifford wants to start now,” cried out Phil. 

“Yes, I want to start fishing. Come on.” 

“Yes, hurry on,” said the leader. “I have time 
any evening to tell you about the citron grove. 
And now remember, you don’t work among my 
orange trees unless you bring back enough fish 
for three meals.” 


NEARING THE TREASURE 


73 


“You haven’t told us where to fish,” said Lod. 

“Follow Phil; he has been in the Everglades 
long enough to know where to pick out a place.” 

“All right, boys, come on, and we’ll show Mr. 
Green how to land ’em.” 

It was a part of the leader’s plan not to show 
himself too anxious to direct the boys near the 
place where the box was sunk. 

“That’s right, boys, follow your leader,” he 
said; “and then if you don’t succeed I’ll pick 
out a place and try my luck with you to- 
morrow.” 

Soon the three lads were off. 

Cutting a long pole to be used for probing 
into the rich muck, Mark Green went out to 
explore his future citron grove. While he enjoyed 
the companionship of the boys and anticipated 
the real fun of finding the box, he had an eye on 
the business part of the expedition. In fact, as 
he had more than once explained to them, it was 
the prospect of a future fortune in citron 
products that had brought him on the trip. 

Selecting a place just north of the island 
where the heavy saw grass indicated the deepest 
and best soil, he worked his way along, pausing 
every few feet to probe deep into the muck. In 
only a few places did the pole strike rock, and 
this was quite close to the edge of the island. 
After going some fifty feet he was unable to shove 
the pole to the bottom of the muck. 

So interested did he become that he did not 
notice the hot sun overhead ; but as noon drew on 
he went in search of the boys. 


74 


NEARING THE TREASURE 


“What luck?” he cried, coming upon them 
suddenly. 

“Fisherman’s luck,” answered Lod. 

“Not a bite,” acknowledged Clifford, greatly 
disappointed by the want of success. 

“Don’t give up so soon,” were the cheerful 
words of the leader. 

“Well, Phil,” asked he, “what’s the matter?” 

“Don’t know, Mr. Green; I can’t find a good 
place.” 

“Do you know why?” 

“No, sir.” 

“When were you in the Everglades?” 

“Last winter.” 

“Precisely, and you caught fish at any time of 
the day.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Well this is not winter time; and the fish are 
not apt to bite except early in the morning or 
late in the evening.” 

“I didn’t think of that.” 

“Nor did I ; but it’s true. Let us change our 
program ; to-morrow we’ll get up at daylight and 
fish, and then we’ll take a rest and sleep when it 
is warm.” 

“I’m getting dizzy, Mr. Green,” said Clifford. 
“I thought it was the rocking of the boat, but I 
believe it’s the heat.” 

“Heat it is, boy; come right on into camp.” 

Clifford was quite weak for the rest of the day. 
In fact, Mr. Green watched his temperature with 
some alarm during the whole of the following 


NEARING THE TREASURE 


75 


night. But the boy slept well ; and in the morn- 
ing all traces of a fever had left him. 

At the suggestion of the leader the boys 
remained at camp until the cool of evening ap- 
proached, when they went out with him to try 
their luck at a new hole. This was his chance to 
bring the boys near the sunken box, and yet not 
let it appear that he was directing them. 

“I noticed what seemed to be a rather attrac- 
tive hole for sea trout,’’ he said, as the two canoes 
pushed off from the island. 

“This is the time to fish,” remarked Clifford, 
enjoying the evening breeze. 

“Yes, but you’ll not have many minutes of the 
sport,” replied the man, “because the sun sinks 
quickly in this southern country.” 

“Can’t we try torch fishing?” asked Phil. “It’s 
the best time for mullet.” 

“I had not thought of that, boys. It was my 
intention to keep busy during the day and rest at 
night. Of course, I know that many fishermen 
work at night and sleep during the day. There 
is no objection to our adopting this plan. But 
first let us try this place which I have picked 
out.” 

As it was the wish of Mark Green that Lod 
should find the mysterious box, he had taken the 
boy in the Little Tarpon, leaving the other 
two with the Raud. “It’s getting a little dark, 
even now,” he said to Lod. “We may not be able 
to catch anything to-night, but early to-morrow 
you row over into that open lead and try your 


76 


NEARING THE TREASURE 


luck.” As he spoke, the man pointed to the very 
place where the box had been hid. 

“I hope we get something before night,” said 
the boy. But his hopes were to meet with disap- 
pointment. The party went back to camp with- 
out a nibble at any of the lines. 

It had at first been the leader’s intention to 
send Lod out alone, with the hope that he might 
find the box ; but Mr. Green could not resist the 
desire to accompany the lad and share with him 
the excitement of drawing out the supposed 
mysterious treasure. 

He had the boys up long before daybreak and 
out in the wide lead ready to begin fishing as 
soon as it was sufficiently light. He and Lod 
again occupied the cedar canoe. Gradually, he 
worked towards the pool until they cast anchor 
directly above the sunken box. Then the leader 
lit his pipe and sitting back in the canoe waited 
for further developments. 


CHAPTER X 

ANGLING FOR GOLD 

<4 \A/ HY a * n ^ y° u filing ?” asked Lod with 

VV some surprise as he saw his elder com- 
panion reclining lazily in the canoe. 

“You catch the fish, and I’ll take them off the 
hook.” 

“How do you know that I’ll catch any?” 

“You can’t help it; they are here, and they are 
hungry. They’ll insist on getting caught.” 

“Well, I reck’n I haven’t seen any fish like 
that.” 

“In no other place but Florida,” explained the 
man. “There are so many fish in Florida that 
there’s no room for them all in the waters, and 
some have to get caught.” 

“Well, I’ll do my best.” 

“Just throw your hook out on either side of 
the canoe, and you’ll have a string of fish in less 
than half an hour.” 

“If this is such a good place, let’s call the 
other two over here.” 

“Not necessary! They may catch all they can 
carry where they are ; if not, you’ll have enough 
for three meals for the party.” 

77 


78 


ANGLING FOK GOLD 


“Mr. Green, I reck’n you are fooling with me. 
You don’t believe that I’ll get a bite, and then 
yon can have a laugh at me.” 

“The laugh will be on myself, on all of us ; for 
if we don’t catch fish, our supplies will run out 
in a week.” 

“Clifford is the big eater,” said Lod. 

“There are four big eaters in this crowd — but 
look, your line is caught in the saw grass.” 

“It must have been a big fish to pull it way 
over there,” said Lod. 

“Yes, while you are talking, the fish are doing 
their best to run away with your line.” 

“I reck’n I’ll stop talking and get down to 
work.” 

And now in earnest the boy cast his line back 
and forth to lure sea trout; but all in vain, for 
not a nibble could he get. 

“The fish haven’t gotten up yet,” said the man, 
after some minutes. “Let me look at your line. 
No wonder!” he exclaimed. “No wonder! fishing 
right on the surface. Let out the line, youngster, 
let it right to the bottom. There are about six 
thousand trout waiting there for the bait.” 

Out went the line according to directions ; but 
there was not the faintest nibble at the bait. 

“I see that I’ll have to help you,” said Mr. 
Green, after some waiting. “No, no, you can 
catch them. I am sure you can catch them. Play 
your line back and forth, that’ll wake the fellows 
up,” and Mark Green with a laugh lay back in 
the canoe. 

“Now you are fishing,” were his encouraging 


ANGLING FOR GOLD 79 

words as he watched the boy cast the line as 
directed. 

Every minnte the man expected to hear that 
the hook had caught on something at the bottom, 
for the boy was dragging the sinker directly over 
the sunken box. 

“Not a bite?” he asked. 

“Not a nibble.” 

“Strange! and early in the morning! Just the 
time for them.” 

Just then, there came a shout of triumph from 
Clifford who had landed a spotted grouper. 
Then another, and another were drawn in by 
Phil and Clifford. 

“Let’s go over there, Mr. Green,” pleaded Lod. 

“Fiddlesticks ! lad, this is the best place in the 
Everglades for fishing. Try again. Are you 
fishing along the bottom ?” 

“Yes, sir, I can feel the sinker dragging along 
the mud.” 

“Keep it up for a while.” 

Lod worked until he was perspiring. 

With apparent indifference Mark Green 
watched the boy at his fruitless efforts. Wasn’t 
that provoking! Would the hook never catch 
the trunk? Mark Green laughed at the failure of 
his joke. He was tempted to tell the boy to look 
into the clear water, and see whether there were 
any fish in the pool. But no ! he would wait. 

In the meanwhile, the cheers from the other 
canoe were coming faster at each successful 
catch. 

“Try again,” were the encouraging words of 


80 


ANGLING FOR GOLD 


the man, who saw Lod looking wistfully towards 
his more successful companions. 

“I reck’n I’m doing my best.” 

“Yes, but you may draw fish here by casting 
and splashing.” 

So, Lod cast and splashed and splashed and 
cast ; threw the line out and drew it in ; got the 
hook caught in the saw grass, got the line tangled 
in the canoe, got Mr. Green dodging the sinker 
as it went whirling over his head ; got frightened 
as he all but capsized the canoe; got tired and 
disgusted at his repeated failures ; got everything 
but the one thing for which the man was wait- 
ing — the sunken box. 

“Well,” said the leader, giving up the joke for 
the morning, “it only shows that an old fisherman 
will miss it now and then. I thought that I had 
picked a good place, but the boys have beaten 
me. But look here, Lod, I want you to come 
back here to-night or to-morrow or some other 
time and see whether I’m not right. Fish 
change their eating fields. They’re" all away 
from home this morning. I still believe that 
you’ll catch them right here. Can vou find the 
place?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Sure?” 

“Yes, sir, I reck’n I can.” 

“I want you to be sure of the exact place.” 

“I can find it.” 

“You may and you may not. Just take a good 
look. You will notice that we are just out from 
that hummock.” He pointed to the left. 


ANGLING FOE GOLD 


81 


“Yes, sir.” 

“Now turn in this direction; yon will see that 
the large camphor tree at the end of the island is 
just in front of that small hummock in the dis- 
tance.” 

“I see both, sir.” 

“When you get the camphor tree and small 
hummock in a line and then take your bearings 
with this other hummock to our left, you’ll be 
right in this place.” 

“Yes, sir, I see.” 

More cheers from the successful fishermen 
again interrupted the explanation. 

“Yes, they’ve beaten us out, Lod, beaten us 
badly; but I wager that some other day the fish 
will bite right here, so I want you to be able to 
find the place.” 

“It may be just as well that we didn’t discover 
the box this morning,” mused the leader as he 
rowed Lod across to the other boys. 

“What a wonderful catch!” exclaimed Mark 
Green, when he looked into the bottom of the 
boys’ canoe where the spotted groupers literally 
covered the bottom. String ’em boys, string ’em ; 
and we may be able to keep most of them alive.” 

“I’m going to catch one,” said Lod as the others 
set to work to string their fish. 

His artificial bait had scarcely touched the sur- 
face when he felt the thrill for which he had long 
been waiting. “Got one !” he cried. 

As he spoke the fish leaped from the water and 
shook a glinting shower from its silvery scales. 

“Young tarpon !” shouted Phil. 


82 ANGLING FOR GOLD 

“A flying fish !” exclaimed Clifford as the cap- 
tive leaped three feet into the air and threw a 
graceful rainbow spray from its body. 

Lod was too excited to speak. In fact, this was 
a new experience; he simply clung to the line. 

“Let it go! let it out!” directed Mr. Green. 
“It’s a silver lady-fish you’ve got ; and the best 
fighter in these waters ! Give it slack ; give it all 
the line !” 

Up into the air again the fish darted, a thing 
of beauty, dashing a rainbow from it at every 
leap. 

“Now pull in slowly,” cried the leader. 

In the excitement, Phil and Clifford forgot the 
spotted groupers to view the struggle of the sil- 
ver leaper. 

So violent was the struggle of the fish that it 
was soon exhausted, and lay panting on the sur- 
face. 

Proud indeed was Lod as he lifted the four 
pound fish into the canoe with the landing net. 

The other fish seemed to be frightened by the 
noise; at any rate, the biting of the groupers 
stopped and no other silver lady-fish was caught. 

“This settles the supply question for a while,” 
said Mr. Green. 

The two canoes went slowly towards the 
island. “We’ll take a rest during the warm part 
of the day,” he added. 

“I want to come out and get a picture of this 
nest,” replied Clifford. And the boy pointed out 
a die-dipper’s home of sticks. It was a floating 


ANGLING FOR GOLD 83 

house securely anchored to several stems of saw 
grass. 

“The dipper is quite a builder; I’ll be glad to 
see you have its house in your collection of pho- 
tos,” said the leader. 

When the boy rowed out to the place half an 
hour later, the mother bird sat quietly upon the 
nest with a curve of its brown neck visible. 

“Thank you,” said the boy, after he had 
snapped the camera. 

The picture developed perfectly and formed 
one of the prizes of the collection. 


CHAPTER XI 

UNWELCOME VISITORS 

“T’m not a camper! Fm a city man with no ex- 

X perience! Instead of being a leader of an 
expedition, I should be taking first lessons from 
one of the boys.” Thus mused Mark Green 
when he walked down to the water’s edge on the 
morning after the successful catch by Phil and 
Clifford. “When did I forget that the ’Glades 
are full of turtles and snakes? Got every one 
of them! not a fish left for breakfast! and the 
provisions low — very low!” he muttered to him- 
self, as he examined the place where the fish 
had been left on two strings. Not a fish was 
now in sight. Evidently, the turtles had feasted 
on them during the night, and moccasins had 
eaten what the turtles had left. Not even the 
strings could be found. 

“No breakfast this morning!” he shouted to 
the boys, who had come out of their tent. 

“What about the fish we caught last night?” 
asked Phil. 

“That’s the very question ! What about 
them? that’s what I want to know! what about 
them? Can’t find the string.” 

“What got them, Mr. Green?” 

“That’s the question! what got them? You 
84 


UNWELCOME VISITORS 85 

ought to know, Phil ; you’ve been in the ’Glades 
before.” 

“Turtles?” 

“Yes, and they did the work well; didn’t even 
leave a head or tail — left nothing; they were so 
hungry that they ate the strings.” 

“Let’s start and catch more before it’s 
warm,” suggested Clifford. 

“I reck’n I can land another lady-fish,” said 
Lod. 

“Well, boys, I’ll give you a cup of coffee and a 
bite of — of something.” 

It took but a few minutes to gulp down the 
meager breakfast; then the boys were off. 

When alone, the leader interested himself in 
planning the construction of a little fish pond to 
be located at the far end of the island where 
the water was shallow; the shore was to form 
one side, and the rest was to be surrounded by 
a wicker made of willow branches. Turtles 
could not get at the fish; but snakes could slip 
through the meshes or could climb over the top, 
so that it was necessary to make the pond rather 
large, to give the fish a chance to escape from 
any intruding moccasin. 

The boys met with some success, and before 
the sun was hot they returned with six fair- 
sized mullets. 

“Good!” cried the leader, as Lod held up the 
prizes. “Boys,” he continued, “I’m making a 
pond for the fish. I can keep out the turtles; 
perhaps the snakes will not be able to catch any 
of the fish.” 


86 UNWELCOME VISITORS 

After a short rest all set to work, Lod and 
Clifford cutting the willow branches, while Phil 
and the leader wove the meshes. 

As the work could be done in the shade of a 
live oak, no one complained of the heat. Early 
in the afternoon, the wickers were finished and 
carried to the shore. Then Mr. Green waded out 
into the shallow water and began to fasten the 
woven willow to poles, which he had already 
driven into the muck. “If I only had a heavy 
cord,” he exclaimed, “I could make the whole 
affair quite strong.” 

“I know where there is a cord,” spoke up 
Clifford. 

“Where?” 

“Around your package.” 

The boys waited for an answer. This was not 
the first time that the lads had referred to the 
mysterious package. In fact, they had fre- 
quently asked the leader to open it for them; 
but had always been refused, with the promise, 
however, that they would see the contents be- 
fore they left the island to return home. Now 
that the cord was needed, perhaps Mr. Green 
would untie the oil-cloth cover. 

“Will you get the cord if I give permission?” 
he asked of Clifford. 

“If you tell me that it is not dangerous to open 
the package, Mr. Green.” 

“I can’t say whether it is dangerous or not. 
But I’ll let you know this much : it will not be 
very long before you see the contents of the pack- 
age. I had hoped, in fact, that you would find 


UNWELCOME VISITORS 87 

out before this.” But the boys did not under- 
stand the remark. 

“You won’t let us find out,” said Lod. 

“Some day you’ll know, boys ; some day you’ll 
know. But let us get to work.” 

“I bet you my knife, I know.” 

“Well, the bet is made; what is it?” 

“Dynamite.” 

“What would I do with dynamite?” 

“Blow up something.” 

“I know,” claimed Phil. 

“Well, what do you say?” 

“Blasting powder.” 

“Dynamite and blasting powder ! What 
would I do with dynamite and blasting pow- 
der?” 

“Don’t know — but you said it was dangerous, 
and powder is dangerous.” 

“That it is, and dynamite is dangerous; but 
I don’t think I have either. Clif, what do you 
say?” 

“I can’t guess, Mr. Green ; but we are mighty 
anxious to see the package opened.” 

“Some day you will find out all about it, boys ; 
but not to : day. And now that I think of it, you 
boys just run over to that clump of camphor 
bushes and cut off the bark ; it will make an ex- 
cellent cord.” While he talked, the leader was 
fitting the wickers. 

The boys were soon back with the bark which 
proved a good substitute for cord. “Now we 
are ready for the fish,” exclaimed Mr. Green, 
when the last of the willows had been tightly 


88 UNWELCOME VISITORS 

secured. “We can take care of at least fifty.” 

‘Til get the ones we caught this morning,” was 
the offer of Phil. 

“Yes, get them,” said the man. “I only hope 
that the turtles have not found them.” 

Two of the mullets had died, but the four 
which were still alive seemed to enjoy the free- 
dom of the little pond. 

For some time, the party stood watching the 
fish and planning for regular hours with the lines 
until the pond was filled to its capacity. 

The rest of the day and the days that fol- 
lowed were rather uneventful. However, they 
were not without interest, and the island began 
to take on a floral beauty unnoticed when the 
party first arrived. There had been several 
patches of bright, yellow butterwort, but the 
blooms had fallen from the delicate stems. The 
swamp willows were all aglow with petals of 
pinkish purple, and the first burning flowers 
of the scarlet gilia burst forth in burning clus- 
ters; the orange blooms of the trumpet vine fes- 
tooned the tree tops ; and the outstretched 
branches of the bay trees, w T ith their waxy and 
faintly fragrant blossoms, were luring myriads 
of bees. What a glorious life it was, this living 
out among the untouched beauties of nature! 

Mr. Green’s box was still w T here it had been 
hid, although Lod and the others had on sev- 
eral occasions fished for hours at the exact place. 
The bear hunt on the rookery, while promising 
a day of excitement, had been uneventful and 
had failed to add to the larder the coveted bruin. 


UNWELCOME VISITORS 


89 


Then, there was something of a mystery gath- 
ering around the camp. Phil had screamed at 
the top of his voice one night and claimed that 
he had seen a black bear. Clifford was convinced 
that he had caught sight of a man on the island 
one moonlit night, and Mr. Green was sure that 
some thief had made away with a part of his 
provisions. 


CHAPTER XII 

ON THE TRAIL 

5 ^1ator Pete had been true to his threat. 

After learning from the Spanish family 
that Mark Green was going into the Everglades, 
and that in some strange way gold had been men- 
tioned in connection with the trip, Pete decided 
to follow the man and rob him if any gold should 
be found. 

In his small, clumsy canoe with no provisions 
of any kind, with no equipment, not even a gun 
or fishing rod, he had followed in the trail of 
Mark Green. On the banks of the Shark River 
and again in the swamp on the edge of the Ever- 
glades, he had taken supplies from the party 
and had slept within gunshot of the camp. 

As he had been unable to follow closely dur- 
ing the trip through the saw grass of the Ever- 
glades, he was all but famished when he crept 
up on the island the second night after the land- 
ing and carried away sufficient food for three 
days. 

Not five hundred yards from Lookout Island 
was a large but low hummock covered entirely 
with mangrove bushes. The fact that nothing 
but the mangroves grew there was a sufficient 
proof that the island was uninhabitable. How- 

90 


ON THE TRAIL 


91 


ever, no better place could have been found for 
’Gator Peter, for he could live and wade and 
sleep where no other white man would have ven- 
tured. Pulling his canoe far into the bushes, 
he slept securely during the day, although it 
was so hot and stifling within the closely mat- 
ted bushes, that few could have borne the heat. 
At night, he crept forth to stretch his cramped 
limbs and steal provisions from the campers. 
This latter was an easy task, as no attempt had 
been made to hide or protect anything. Occa- 
sionally he camped on the rookery and lived on 
young birds and bird eggs. 

Mr. Green had noticed that the provisions were 
not holding out as he had calculated. However, 
he attributed the rapid disappearance of the food 
to the remarkable appetites of the boys, and con- 
cluded that he had not taken a sufficient supply. 
It never once occurred to him that any living 
being could remain in the vicinity without be- 
ing discovered ; he therefore took no precautions 
to guard anything in the camp. He had come 
out with the boys to lead a free and open life 
and was enjoying it thoroughly. 

The experience of the boys, however, and their 
repeated assertion that they had seen some large 
object moving near the tent, awakened his sus- 
picions about the possible presence of a roving 
Indian. 

“So you were dreaming about a bear,” he said 
playfully to Phil, when they were alone the day 
after the bear hunt. 

“I saw one,” muttered the boy. 


92 


ON THE TRAIL 


“Are you afraid of it?” 

“We keep the tent closed tight now, Mr. 
Green.” 

“You were only dreaming, boy.” 

“No, I really saw it.” 

“Big one?” 

“Don’t know exactly.” 

“There now, you saw a bear and don’t know 
how large it was.” 

“I was so scared that I yelled; and then the 
boys hammered me on the back and said I had 
’em bad. And when I came to, the bear was 
gone.” 

“Looked that way.” 

Mark Green tried to persuade the boy that it 
was all his imagination; but Phil Reed stuck 
to his statement that he had seen a bear. 

Later in the day, Clifford was approached by 
the leader and asked about his seeing a man. 

“Yes, Mr. Green, I’m sure I saw one.” 

“It may have been a shadow.” 

“No, Mr. Green, no!” 

“Trees often look like men at night, especially 
when the moon is shining,” suggested the man. 

“Perhaps they do ; but trees don’t move along 
the ground,” and with his body swaying and his 
long arms reaching forth, Clifford endeavored to 
imitate the skulking figure. 

“Where could a man come from?” 

“I don’t know, sir.” 

“And where could he go?” 

“I don’t know, Mr. Green.” 

“Dreaming ! seeing ghosts !” laughed the man. 


ON THE TKAIL 93 

“If it was a ghost, he had on a man’s snit of 
clothes.” 

“See here, boy,” argued the leader, “do you 
believe that a man walked right out into the 
water and then kept on walking?” 

“I don’t know, Mr. Green ; he may have had a 
canoe.” Then both were silent. 

“Clifford, I want to tell you a secret.” Green 
spoke in a whisper. “You are older than the 
other boys ; one of you should know what I have 
to say. I may tell the others, but I want you 
to know now. Some one is loitering around the 
island. It is probably a Seminole Indian. I do 
not think that he would hurt any one; still, it 
worries me to know that he has followed us or 
come upon us.” 

“Did you see him?” 

“No, but I saw his footprints. During the 
bear-hunt yesterday, you remember that I left 
you boys at one corner of the rookery, while I 
went through the mangrove bushes. Well, on 
two or three spots I saw footprints of a bare- 
footed man. Later, I discovered that he had 
lived on the island and had worn a path to a hid- 
ing place and had built a fire. Evidently, this 
fire was made in the daytime and of very dry 
pinewood, which would give little smoke. Only 
an Indian would know this. Besides, the small 
pieces of pine were arranged around like spokes 
on a wheel — the Indian way of making a fire. 
I don’t want to frighten the smaller boys, so for 
the present I’ll not tell ’em ; but I am going to 
keep a watch on things. If an Indian comes to 


94 


ON THE TRAIL 


steal, it will probably be during the early part 
of the night. Now, I may call you to stand on 
guard for an hour or two towards morning. It’s 
for this reason that I’m telling you about these 
matters. Don’t say anything to the other boys ; 
but if I call you before daylight in the morning, 
you will know that I want you to keep watch for 
me.” 

Clifford Savage made no reply. Pleased to 
know that the leader put this trust in him, he 
resolved to do his part in guarding the camp. 

After a few seconds, Mr. Green continued : “I 
understand it all. The object which Lod saw on 
the rookery was not a bear but a skulking In- 
dian. Phil’s bear was probably the same Indian, 
and you were correct when you said you saw a 
man creeping along towards the end of this is- 
land. Now that we understand matters, we can 
protect ourselves. The reason why we did not 
find a bear yesterday was because there was no 
bear on the rookery ; and the Indian living there 
probably saw us approaching and got away.” 

“ Ain’t Indians dangerous, Mr. Green?” 

“Not in the least. As a general thing, they 
make good and peaceful neighbors, and are kind 
to strangers who come into the ’Glades; but an 
occasional one turns thief. It has been many 
years since any one was killed by an Indian. 
There are some mean and worthless men among 
the whites, take ’Gator Pete for instance; so 
we should not be surprised to find an occasional 
Indian who is not the best.” 

Clifford w T as relieved to learn that there was 


ON THE TRAIL 


95 


really no danger, and that the watching con- 
sisted in guarding the supplies. Flattered to 
know that he had been taken into the confidence 
of Mr. Green, he was determined to assist the 
leader in every possible way. “But how can we 
see the Indian, if one comes in the dark?” he 
asked. 

“Well let the Indian do the seeing, boy ; once 
an Indian has been out in the darkness for some 
time he is an adept in making his way and know- 
ing of the presence of others. If only one of us 
is moving about the island near the camp, that 
will be sufficient to keep him away.” 

The conversation was interrupted by Phil and 
Lod, who came running at full tilt. 

“Bear ! bear !” blurted out Phil, all excited. 

“Sl-e-e-e-ping in the bushes,” stammered Lod. 
“Big one ! black one !” 

“You boys are going crazy!” protested the 
leader, recalling that he had just explained to 
Clifford that there was no bear even near Look- 
out Island.” 

“Get your rifle, Mr. Green; get your rifle,” 
warned Phil. 

“If you can find a bear, IT1 eat it alive !” 

“Bet you my knife you won’t!” said earnest 
Lod. 

The man was finally convinced that a real bear 
had invaded the island, and consented to get his 
rifle. 

Slowly the party walked across the island to 
the clump of mangrove bushes. 

“There he is! still sleeping!” whispered Lod, 


96 


ON THE TRAIL 


and at the same time he pointed to a dark ob- 
ject crouched in the bushes. 

“ I am wrong, boys, and you are right!” He 
raised his rifle, but after a short aim he took it 
from his shoulders. “It’s too bad to kill a bear 
at this season of the year. We could use a little 
of the fat, but the rest would spoil in a few 
days; and the skin will spoil. Next winter that 
bear may mean lots to some poor Indian. Boys, 
we’ll give it such a scare that it’ll never come 
back to this island.” 

Lod’s hunting spirit was roused. “Mr. Green,” 
he pleaded, “I reck’n we ought to kill it.” 

As he spoke, the bear raised its head as if in 
protest against this suggestion. 

Without waiting for further parley, Mark 
Green gave a shout, and so loud a shout that 
Lod jumped with excitement. Bruin caught the 
danger signal ; crash went mangrove bushes ! In 
a few seconds, only the head of the intruder could 
be seen as it swam through the saw grass. 

“Good-by, old fellow,” shouted the leader. 

“Good-by,” went up a chorus from the boys. 

“Hunted for it all day, then found it in our 
back yard,” remarked Clifford. 

“And you didn’t even get a photo of it,” added 
the leader. “But it would have been a crime to 
kill the creature out of season. Every one who 
comes to Florida seems to think that he has noth- 
ing to do but shoot and kill- — kill birds — kill alli- 
gators — kill bears and deer in season and out of 
season. It’s kill, kill, kill !” 


ON THE TRAIL 97 

“Well, I reck’n I’ve seen a bear at last,” and 
Lod was satisfied. 

“Will he come back?” asked Phil. 

Here was the leader’s chance. “It may, it may. 
Probably one of us should keep watch every night 
at least for a while. I’ll start to-night, and, Clif- 
ford, you can take the next night for watching.” 

As far as Phil and Lod were concerned, the 
mystery was now clear, but Mr. Green was 
anxious to find the intruder who made the foot- 
prints on the rookery. 


CHAPTER XIII 

LOD CATCHES A STRANGE FISH 

“/'■'lOME on, boys, we’ll get him before dinner! 

Ks He’s got to die! The ungrateful wretch! 
Spared his life when he had eaten every fish in 
the pool ! Sleeping in the mangroves, of course 
he was sleeping! The glutton! He’s a pig, that’s 
what he is ! a pig !” The leader was gesticulat- 
ing wildly as he paced up and down in the small 
tent, and got the boys out of their cots. 

The astonished youngsters soon learned the 
cause of the angry words. Before his departure 
from the island on the previous day, Mr. Bruin 
had eaten every fish in the pool— fifteen large 
fish ! “Our entire supply of fish gone! stolen by 
the rascal! Then I spared his life; just watch 
me when we meet again ! He’ll come back again, 
of course he will ; and I know who will be ready 
to meet him! You bet I know! Well, boys, it 
will be the last fish that Mr. Bear will eat! his 
very last fish !” Up and down, into the tent and 
out walked the excited man; finally he laughed 
“A good joke on me ! Well, after all, what good 
would it have done to kill the creature? the fish 
were gone when you boys found the bear. Come 
on, boys, and after breakfast we’ll make a new 

98 


LOD CATCHES A STRANGE FISH 99 


pool right in front of the tents; and woe be to 
the bear that comes to take a fish !” 

The lads were soon up and enjoying the corn- 
pone which Mr. Green knew so well how to make. 
Then a place was selected for the new fish pool. 
As the water was deep here, the work went on 
slowly ; but before noon the wicker was finished. 

In the afternoon, as soon as it was cool enough 
to fish, Phil and Clifford went out in the Little 
Tarpon while Lod and Mr. Green were to follow 
in the Rand. It was the latter’s intention to take 
his young companion near to the sunken chest 
and give him a last chance to discover the treas- 
ure. But as only a few days of the expedition 
remained, Mr. Green wished to be sure that some 
one at least would find the box. He therefore 
resolved to bring it close to the island and sink 
it in water only three feet deep. 

“Lod,” said he, “I don’t think it’s well for all 
of us to leave the island at the same time. You 
are not afraid to stay here alone for a while?” 

“No, sir.” 

“That’s right, I knew you wouldn’t mind it. 
I’ll go out fishing and will be back long before 
it’s dark.” 

The boy winced a little at the word “dark,” 
but he pretended to be unconcerned. 

“If the bear comes, you can shoot it ; shoot it 
at first sight.” 

This was cruel — mentioning darkness and a 
bear after asking the boy to remain on the island 
alone. 

“I reck’n I don’t want it here, when I’m alone.” 


100 LOD CATCHES A STRANGE FISH 

“It wouldn’t come in the daytime ; but even at 
night it wouldn’t be dangerous.” 

“I wonder when the other boys will be back?” 
Lod wanted to know. 

“Don’t worry about ’em. I’ll be here before 
they come in.” Soon Mr. Green was off, leaving 
the boy alone. 

How lonely the Lookout Island became all at 
once. Every sound was magnified by the boy’s 
imagination; never before had the chirp of an 
insect or the call of a bird seemed so loud. 

Into the tent the boy wandered, picked up Mr. 
Green’s rifle, aimed it at imaginary bears and 
killed imaginary deer. Then he practiced insert- 
ing shells; then aimed it again at trees, saw 
grass and flitting birds. 

Before him was his fishing rod. Snatching it 
up he ran off to the little boat-landing, where 
he left his tackle and went in search of fiddler 
crabs, the best bait for catching sheephead. The 
boys had been successful with this kind of fish 
only after Mr. Green had explained that it was 
a burrower, and that it was necessary when cast- 
ing for it to draw one’s line along the bottom. 

A few of the fiddler crabs were soon secured ; 
and in his interest in luring a black-headed, 
silver-banded sheephead Lod forgot that he was 
alone. 

Suddenly his hook was caught. At first, the 
boy thought it was only a stick or bunch of saw 
grass that was holding the line; but the object 
would give exactly the same distance each time 
and then become rigid. He could also slip the 


LOD CATCHES A STRANGE FISH 101 


hook back and forth some six inches. As he 
pnlled the line taut, the boy moved close to the 
water’s edge and in the mucky soil, half hidden 
in the grass and weeds, he could distinguish the 
outlines of a box. His heart gave a great leap ! 
Was this the long-sought chest? 

Examining the object from several viewpoints 
he could no longer doubt that there before him, 
in about six feet of water, was the box of gold. 

He forgot his fishing hook and line ; forgot the 
sheepheads which he had come to catch; forgot 
that he was alone on the island ; forgot his dread 
of bears ; forgot all but the box, the long-lost box, 
the box of gold! 

Running to the tent and slipping into his bath- 
ing suit, he dived down into the pool. Expert 
swimmer that he was, he was soon feeling in the 
muck and roots of saw grass. He grasped the 
handle, he ran his hands over the top, he felt the 
sides. So excited was he that in his attempt to 
breathe he took in a quantity of water, and gasp- 
ing and spitting came to the surface. 

Time and again he had fished at this identical 
place! Time and again he had drawn his line 
along the murky bottom to lure a sheephead! 
And now, now, when he was alone and little 
dreamed of the box of gold, he had found it I 
found it within a few feet of the camp — found 
it when every member of the party had come and 
gone — found it where the canoes had been moored 
— found it — found the chest of gold ! 

For a while he sat on the landing wondering 
what to do. Should he await the coming of Mr. 


102 LOD CATCHES A STRANGE FISH 

Green and the boys? Wouldn’t it be glorious 
to have the box there for them when they re- 
turned? But was he sure that this was the box 
of gold? Perhaps it was some useless thing 
thrown into the waters by former campers? He 
would try again ! He would examine the box 
again ! 

In he dived. Again he grasped the handle, 
which proved to be slightly curved, with some 
figure or design on the upper part. There was a 
clasp at the upper part and one at each end. 
These clasps, too, were ornamental. The box 
was of some kind of smooth wood with a curve 

at the top. . 

Again the boy was back on the landing. 
Surely, this box was no ordinary one for carry- 
ing provisions. About a foot in length and 
nearly a foot in height, with its handle and three 
clasps, it appeared to be just the little chest that 
one would use for carrying a treasure. 

For some time young Lod Speaks sat on the 
landing. Then, suddenly, he resolved to try to 
secure the prize before the party returned. 

To the tent he ran, tore away a rope and with 
it an iron hook used for tightening the guides. 
Back to the water’s edge he leaped, took a breath 
and dived. The hook was secured under the han- 
dle of the chest; then up to the surface came 
the boy with one end of the rope in his hands. 

With all his strength he pulled, but seemed to 
accomplish nothing. From side to side he 
worked the rope as if he were playing a monster 
tarpon. The strain could be endured but for 


LCD CATCHES A STRANGE FISH 103 


a few minutes; then all exhausted the lad sat 
down upon the landing. 

Above him, was the far-reaching branch of the 
willow tree. Up he climbed and threw the rope 
over the limb ; then with his feet braced against 
one of the poles at the end of the landing he 
tugged and tugged. The great branch yielded 
and seemed to be working with him. Steadily 
the boy pulled. He felt the fibrous roots around 
the box yielding to his strength ! Another pull ! 
another — another — the box was loose; and now 
it was coming to the top like a captive fish that 
had lost its strength. 

The chest touched the surface. Up he pulled 
it ; then with his foot he swung it in and out until 
it came over the landing. Down on the poles it 
fell with a thud. With both hands he seized it! 
There before his eyes and within his grasp was 
the long-lost chest, the chest of gold ! Here was 
the treasure of which w T hite men had talked and 
written ! Here the treasure for which the Semi- 
nole Indians had searched for almost a century ! 


CHAPTER XIV 

THE COMING OF ’GATOR PETE 

I N his interest and excitement in securing the 
treasure, Lod had not noticed that the sun 
was fast sinking, nor had he observed a canoe 
approaching the island, nor the gaunt figure of 
’Gator Pete creeping towards him. 

Dipping up the water with his hands he set 
to work to wash the muck from the sides of the 
box ; it seemed to be in a perfect state of preser- 
vation. At the lower corners he found large 
metal knobs. The whole chest seemed to be 
strong and of artistic workmanship. 

And now he would open the box and see its 
contents! How his hand trembled as he tried 
the clasp on top. To his surprise the clasp 
yielded and sprang open. Those to the side, too, 
were easily unfastened; but the chest itself re- 
mained sealed. 

Further observation revealed a key hole from 
which the boy had failed to remove the mud. 
Evidently the chest was locked. What would 
Lod do next? Would he try to force the box or 
would he await the return of Mr. Green and the 
boys? No, he could not wait ! he would see what 

104 


THE COMING OF ’GATOR PETE 105 


was in the chest. With a hatchet he could no 
doubt force the lock. He was just rising to go 
to the tent, when he felt a hand on his shoulder. 

“What you got dar?” ’Gator Peter was bend- 
ing over the lad. 

“A box of gold.” The fatal words were spoken 
before the boy realized what he had said. 

“Don’t you holler or I’ll kill you. I seen 
Green an’ de boys go ’way. Been watchin’ you 
and wuz cornin’ over fer somethin’ ter eat ; den I 
seed you wid de box. De box is mine. I lost 
it.” 

“No, sir, that box has been lost for nearly a 
century.” 

“Mine, I tell you, it’s mine.” 

“No, sir, it’s mine, for I found it.” 

“Git ’way, boy, git ’way !” 

“Please, sir, don’t take it.” 

“Git ’way! and don’t holler or I’ll kill you.” 

“Please, sir; oh, please, don’t take it!” 

“Git ’way!” and the intruder lifted the box. 
“Heavy,” he said ; “must be full of gole.” 

“Oh, mister, I found it; please, don’t take it!” 
and little Lod began to sob. 

Leaving the boy on the landing, ’Gator Pete 
walked up to the tent and took some provisions. 
He also carried away the rifle and a hatchet. 

“Oh, mister, please, don’t take the box !” cried 
out the boy, as the man came back toward the 
landing. 

“I done tole you it’s mine. I lost it.” 

“No, sir, it’s been right here for years; you 
never saw it before.” 


106 THE COMING OF ’GATOR PETE 

“Don’t call me no liar, boy !” 

“And that’s Mr. Green’s rifle; if you take it 
he’ll fix you.” 

“He won’t ketch me.” 

“Yes, he will; he isn’t far away and will be 
back soon.” The remark seemed to frighten the 
thief, for he hurried away to his canoe carrying 
the things which he had taken from the tent. 

In the meanwhile, Lod slipped into his 
clothes. “Don’t you move or holler,” repeated 
the thief, coming back to the landing for the 
box. 

“I’m just putting on my clothes.” 

“Set right thar. Don’t you move or I’ll shoot 
you. An’ you tell Mark Green I’ll shoot ’im if 
he tries to ketch me. Do you hear?” 

. “ Yes > sir > b ut you can’t scare him. He’ll be 
right after you.” 

“No one can’t ketch ’Gator Pete in the ’Glades, 
no one can’t.” 

Lod was forced to sit on the landing and watch 
the thief depart with the treasure. Then he re- 
membered the tin horn. Up he leaped and was 
off to the tent, where he snatched up his horn 
and blew blast after blast. 

For a moment ’Gator Pete dropped his oars, 
doubting whether he would return to the island 
and chastise the lad or row the faster to escape 
with his prize. He resolved on the latter course 
and pulled away as fast as his clumsy dugout 
would go. 

In the meanwhile, Mr. Green had drawn his 
own box from the water, intending to hide it 


THE COMING OF ’GATOK PETE 107 


again, but in a shallow lead quite close to the 
island, where the boys would be sure to find 
it. Thinking that he had ample time, he had 
begun to fish, and meeting with luck had con- 
tinued his sport without being aware that the 
afternoon was fast slipping away. “Boy’s get- 
ting scared,” he muttered to himself when he 
heard the call from the horn ; but he deliberately 
continued to fish. Note after note sounded over 
the waters. “The lad is frightened,” he mused 
again. Soon he was rowing towards the island, 
and, when within fifty feet of it, he dropped 
his box over the gunwale, noting exactly where it 
fell. 

Phil and Clifford had also heard the horn. 
“Something wrong,” declared the former. 

“Just practicing,” replied his companion, who 
was busy pulling in mullets. 

“See here! I say something’s wrong on the 
island,” insisted Phil, winding his line. 

“Go on ! Mr. Green’s on the island with Lod ; 
you’re dreaming.” 

“The horn didn’t blow that way before. I 
know that something has happened.” 

“What could happen?” 

“Don’t know; but Lod’s calling for us, and I 
know it.” As he spoke, fresh notes came oyer 
the waters of the Everglades. 

“Hear that?” 

“Yes,” acknowledged Clifford. “He’s either 
fooling us or he wants us!” 

“Let’s go!” Phil’s suggestion was followed; 
and soon the two boys were rowing towards 


108 THE COMING OP ’GATOR PETE 


Lookout Island as fast as they could pull. 

Mr. Green reached the island before the young 
fishermen. “Here I am,” he shouted to Lod, as 
he came in view around a hummock. “Don’t get 
scared ; the bear won’t hurt you.” 

“Mr. Green. Mr. Green ! I’ve found the 
gold.” 

The man looked back to the place where he 
had dropped the chest. A glance showed him 
that the boy could not refer to it. “What?” he 
asked. 

“The box, the box of gold !” 

“Where?” 

“Right under the landing !” 

“What box? what gold?” asked the man, some- 
what confused; for he had never believed in the 
existence of any other box besides the one which 
he had just cast in the water. 

“The box lost long ago — the gold box.” 

“Where is it?” By this time the man was 
landing. 

“ ’Gator Pete took it.” 

“How much gold?” 

Lod now recalled that he had not opened the 
box. “Don’t know,” he replied. "He took it 
before I could open it.” 

“ ’Gator Pete?” stammered the man. 

“Yes, sir, he grabbed it, and said he’d kill me 
if I yelled.” 

By this time the other boys had come in. Lod 
repeated for them the account of his discovery 
and of the sudden appearance of the thief. 

As they sat on the bank discussing matters, 


THE COMING OF ’GATOR PETE 109 


darkness came over the Everglades. Finally, 
the leader jumped to his feet. “Boys,” he be- 
gan, “there’s no use crying over spilled milk. 
We can’t do anything until morning. Phil and 
Clif, hurry and get your fish in the pool, for we 
will need all of our supplies. Here ! give me two 
big ones for supper. Tea and fried fish! we 
can’t eat more until we measure our supplies. 
These two look a little sick and may not live 
until morning.” He took two mullets from the 
canoe. “Hurry on to the pool with the others.” 

When supper was over, the leader sat on one 
of the cots within a tent, and, with the boys 
on the ground in front of him, he told them of 
his plans for the following day. 


CHAPTER XV 

THE GOOD LUCK BOX AGAIN 

S enor Lopez was known to every citizen of 
Tampa. His little jewelry store on the cor- 
ner of the Plaza and Fifth Street, with its beau- 
tiful and valuable specimens of coral, was vis- 
ited by all the tourists who came to the Florida 
city. A diminutive little creature, with his silk 
skull-cap and long black coat, both of which he 
wore even during the summer months, he was 
conspicuous among natives and strangers alike. 
Fidgety and loquacious, he was an object of in- 
terest and curiosity ; still, he was held in respect, 
and so honest and efficient was he that people 
invariably returned to him, once they had known 
him and his wares. 

As he sat on his stool one morning working at 
the mainspring of a watch, he was interrupted 
by the entrance of a stranger — a tall giant of a 
man. 

“My name is Reed,” began the stranger, “and 
I have come to ask whether you can analyze two 
pieces of ore — gold ore, I think.” 

“And hope,” came the reply. 

“Yes, and hope; although,” added the man, 
“the ore is not mine.” 

“Have you the pieces with you?” 

no 


THE GOOD LUCK BOX AGAIN 111 


“Yes, I brought them with me. I just came 
up on the Key West boat, which runs within a 
mile of my truck farm in the southern part of 
the state.” 

“And the gold was found there?” There was 
a look of surprise in the jeweler’s eyes as he 
asked the question. 

“No, we have other gold there; or, let me say, 
something better than gold — our soil.” 

“You must own one of the muck farms,” said 
the little man with a squint. “But,” he added, 
“I hope you have looked well at your gold mines 
— looked well ; for I can tell you of as many for- 
tunes lost in Florida farms as on speculating in 
absent gold mines.” 

“My farm has passed beyond the speculating 
period,” asserted the stranger. “I only hope 
that this specimen is as true gold as my farm 
is true soil.” By this time Mr. Reed had taken 
a small bundle from a valise and handed the 
contents to the jeweler. 

“Ah!” came the reply, “they look genuine! 
genuine ore ! How long will you be in the city?” 

“The boat returns to-night. I must go with 
it.” 

“I’ll need about half an hour. Can you leave 
the specimens with me?” 

“That is my intention. I’ll be engaged with 
some commission merchants for an hour or more 
and then return.” 

“My report will be ready in half an hour.” As 
this was satisfactory to both parties, the visitor 
left the store.. 


112 THE GOOD LUCK BOX AGAIN 


Into his private laboratory went Senor Lopez, 
took from a shelf a bottle of aqua regia, and be- 
gan his analysis of the ore. The smaller speci- 
men was examined first. “Gold! rich in gold!” 
and his eyes fairly twinkled with delight! “It 
would buy a large collection of corals! a large 
collection! rich, very rich!” he repeated as he 
made a second test. Then the large specimen was 
analyzed. “Not so very rich ! not as rich as the 
first piece! If the big man’s friend has a mine 
of this ore — ” The little jeweler could go no 
further. “Would buy many corals! would buy 
many corals,” he repeated. 

Pleased with the result of his work, he was 
soon back at his table fixing the mainspring of 
the watch. A few customers came and went, 
and finally in walked Mr. Reed. 

“What results?” asked he. 

“Where is the mine located?” and Senor Lo- 
pez’s whole manner left no doubt in the mind of 
the visitor that the analysis was satisfactory. 

“Perhaps it was somewhere in South America ; 
but it is probably nowhere, just at present.” 

I “Ah ! and you don’t know ! too bad ! too bad !” 

“Then, I must understand you to say that the 
specimens are good.” 

“Good ! rich ! very rich ! the little one rich ! the 
big one not so rich !” 

“What would be the value of the small piece?” 

“The ore may not be even, ore is seldom even ; 
but the small piece is probably worth three hun- 
dred dollars.” 

“And the large piece?” 


THE GOOD LUCK BOX AGAIN 113 

“Probably two hundred; it may be three hun- 
dred.” 

“Where can I get the ore assayed?” 

“The Government will do it for you.” 

“In Washington?” 

“Precisely, in the Government mint.” 

“I am safe then in paying the owner three 
hundred dollars, and waiting until I hear from 
Washington for full results?” 

“Ah ! ah ! no risk — no danger !” 

“And what do I owe you for the analysis?” 

“You come from the southern part of the 
state?” 

“Near Ten Thousand Islands.” 

“And there are coral reefs?” 

“Mostly submerged and covered with man- 
grove bushes. But we find an occasional speci- 
men.” 

“Then send me the specimens; that will be 
my pay, I’m in no hurry. Tell the man who owns 
the ore to look for coral. Give him my address. 
A few good specimens of coral will be a fine re- 
ward — a very fine reward. But how much ore 
has your friend?” 

“From what I can gather, he has a small box 
full. Let me read you a few lines ;” and Thomas 
Beed drew from his pocket the letter which Mr. 
Green had handed him. “This,” he continued, 
showing the jeweler the faded note, “was found 
in a small chest which has been in the possession 
of a poor Spanish fisherman for many years. It 
was left by a stranger, who exacted a promise 
from the people to preserve it. That was nearly 


114 THE GOOD LUCK BOX AGAIN 

a century ago. A passenger on the boat trans- 
lated the letter for me ; let me read it to you : 

“ ‘Dec. 15th, 1831. 

“ ‘This box is the property of Alfonso Ro- 
driguez. I have brought with me two chests con- 
taining gold ore. As I am not in good health and 
am undertaking a rather long, and, as I under- 
stand, dangerous trip through what is called the 
Everglades, I prefer to risk carrying only one of 
the boxes. Should I reach St. Augustine on the 
eastern coast of Florida and send my chest by 
boat to my home in Cadiz, Spain, I shall return 
and get this second box. If I do not return 
within three years, the box and the gold ore will 
become the property of Senor Cortez and family, 
with whom I have remained for three weeks and 
by whom I have been treated with all the care 
of a son. If I do return to claim my box, I shall 
see to it that the family is well rewarded for this 
charity. 

“ ‘Alfonso Rodriguez/ ” 

“Curious and interesting story,” remarked the 
little jeweler. “And nothing was heard of this 
man Rodriguez?” 

“There has long been a report among the Semi- 
nole Indians that a Spaniard in crossing the 
Everglades had died, and that a chest of gold, 
which he carried, had fallen into the waters and 
remained there.” 

“And you have the other box?” 

“A poor Spanish family has it. The wife re- 


THE GOOD LUCK BOX AGAIN 115 


gards the box as something sacred. She calls it 
‘the good luck box/ for some way or other it was 
supposed to bring good luck to the family.” 

“Good luck,” repeated Lopez, “good luck! 
more than luck, thousands in gold ! thousands in 
gold!” 

“I only hope that none of the ore has been 
lost. Only a few days ago the family permit- 
ted a friend of mine to take the box. The ore 
was put aside on the floor as useless. The man 
who got the box found, on opening it, this faded 
letter, which he gave to me together with the ore. 
I thought nothing of it at first, but on closer 
examination the ore looked to me to be genu- 
ine, so I put it in my pocket for this trip, 
and brought the letter, too. As I have said, 
a passenger put the letter into English for 
me.” 

“And the family never read the letter?” 

“It does seem strange that they should not 
have read it. It is possible that they were not 
able to read. The wife, Juana, is the grand- 
daughter of the fisherman with whom the chest 
was left. It seems that the owner impressed 
upon the minds of the simple people that they 
were to hold on to the box, and that in some 
way it would bring them good luck. That is as 
far as I can go into the matter.” 

“Good luck! good luck!” laughed the Senor 
Lopez, “a box of gold ore for many years, and 
called it only good luck!” 

“Yes, they were rich and didn’t know it. But 
they were true to their promise to keep the box 


116 THE GOOD LUCK BOX AGAIN 

for the stranger, and now they will have their 
reward.” 

“When you write to me about the coral, may 
I ask you to add a word or two about the ore?” 

“Certainly, as soon as I hear the results of 
the analysis made by the government.” 

“I’ll wager that I’m not far from the truth in 
regard to the value of the ore,” claimed the jew- 
eler. 

They shook hands. As Thomas Reed went out 
into the street, he heard Senor Lopez call aloud : 
“Don’t forget the specimens of coral.” 


CHAPTER XVI 

PEDRO BLANCO’S RESOLVE 

*‘X7'ou are a rich man, Pedro, rich man. You 

1 can move to Key West and build the finest 
house in the city; or you can go to Spain and 
buy a title and become Don Pedro, or something 
like that. You are rich ! very rich !” 

“Senor Reed, do not make fun of poor man.” 

“No fun about it; but the dead truth ; you’re as 
rich as a lord.” 

“Do not understand,” and Pedro Blanco folded 
his hands as if in prayer, as he answered in a 
soft southern accent: 

“Where is the gold-ore that Mr. Green took 
from that box?” 

“The little stones?” 

“Yes, stones ; stones, call them what you will, 
where are they?” 

“In the corner; under the table.” 

“And they were not thrown away?” 

The Spaniard looked at his visitor in surprise. 
Never would one of those stones be lost, for they 
were a part of the box ; the caja de suerte. Just 
as soon as the box came back, into it would every 
stone be carefully placed. Not a stone would be 
lost — not a stone! 


117 


118 PEDRO BLANCO’S RESOLVE 


Thomas Reed breathed freely. Knowing the 
value of the gold-ore and fearing that it might 
be carelessly thrown away, he had hurried to the 
house of the poor fisherman to tell him the good 
news and warn him to preserve every particle of 
the ore. 

The two men sat on the edge of the visitor’s 
canoe while Mr. Reed explained the outcome of 
his visit to Tampa and read the letter of Ro- 
driguez. Pedro remembered well that Mr. Green 
had taken a few specimens of the stone. He 
knew nothing of the letter, as the family had 
never examined the contents of the box. It was 
all but impossible to make him realize that he 
and his wife had fallen heirs to a fortune, val- 
ued at about ten thousand dollars. He would 
run to the house at once and tell Juana. 

“Listen to me,” continued the farmer, hold- 
ing the man by the sleeve, “if the ore amounts to 
ten thousand dollars I want you to give one thou- 
sand for our new church.” 

“Two, Senor Reed, two — two !” 

“No, no! one is enough. You are to give one 
thousand dollars towards building our new 
church, provided the fortune is ten thousand or 
over.” 

«T-w— ” 

“No, no ! one thousand ! one thousand, Pedro !” 

Pedro bowed his consent. 

While they talked, Juana came to the beach. 
She cried and laughed alternately as she lis- 
tened to the visitor rehearse the story of the for- 
tune. Yet, she did not take it as a surprise; but 


PEDRO BLANCO’S RESOLVE 119 


only as the long-wished-for fulfillment of a hope 
and a promise. 

Pedro and Juana at once rejected Mr. Reed’s 
suggestion of moving to Key West. They had 
lived on the little island and there they would 
stay. 

As they talked, the three went towards the 
house, where they gathered together the ore and 
tied it in a strong, heavy sack. Later, they would 
devise some means of sending the treasure to the 
government mint at Washington. In the midst 
of the general joy, Thomas Reed took the occa- 
sion to remind the parents of their religious 
duties. 

“Pedro and Juana,” he began, “I have always 
been your friend.” 

“Yes, Senor Reed ; yes, yes, yes !” came the re- 
ply from both. 

“When you get the money and can buy better 
clothing, you will have no excuse for not attend- 
ing Mass and for keeping the children away from 
instructions.” They were about to interrupt him 
with vague promises, but he insisted on speaking. 
“Both of you have been very careless about your 
religious duties. You call yourselves Catholics, 
but you never go to church, even in good weather 
when you could easily row both ways. Your 
children are growing up little pagans ; yes, little 
pagans. They don’t know their prayers.” 

“Little Juana — so sweet !” broke in the mother. 

“Yes, so sweet! She would be a little angel 
if she were baptized. And you won’t let her be 
an angel! God will punish both of you! will 


120 PEDRO BLANCO’S RESOLVE 

punish you ! punish both of you !” Thomas Reed 
spoke slowly and solemnly. On many occasions 
he had asked these shiftless people to attend to 
their religious duties, and especially to have the 
children baptized and instructed. Now, he felt 
that he was in a position to urge the matter. 

“You will have money to buy a little motor- 
boat,” said he, “to take the family to Mass every 
Sunday, and to bring the children to instruc- 
tions when the priest is there.” 

The man and his wife were ready with prom- 
ises ; but Thomas Reed was determined that they 
should live up to their obligations. He then 
talked to them about a new house and new fish- 
ing nets and lines. He arranged to return in a 
few days and have the ore sent by express to 
the government mint. As the poor people 
trusted him, they left the entire matter in his 
hands. On leaving them, however, he could not 
but observe that there was a feeling of disap- 
pointment in the mind of Juana. 

Mr. Reed was no sooner out of sight than 
Juana unburdened her trouble to Pedro. It was 
the caja de suerte which had brought them the 
good luck, and now the box was missing. It 
might be lost ! Mr. Green might throw it away ! 
this to Juana’s mind was all but the equivalent 
of losing the money ! The box should be recov- 
ered, and that at once ! 

In vain did Pedro explain to his worthy spouse 
that Mr. Green would return in a few days and 
bring with him the caja dc suerte . Pedro should 
go at once in search of the party! He could 


PEDRO BLANCO’S RESOLVE 121 


break the good news to Mr. Green! He could 
explain that the wonderful box had all those 
years contained the very fortune for which they 
were yearning and which they were expecting! 
Why should Pedro wait? Could he not start 
that very night? Something might happen to 
the caja! It might be lost or stolen or given 
away or burned or dropped into the water. In 
how many, many ways it might disappear! It 
was a part of the fortune and should never, 
never be lost! The caja , the caja de suerte! the 
good luck box ! 

Yielding to the entreaties of Juana, Pedro 
promised to depart on his mission on the follow- 
ing morning. Immediately, the wife set to work 
to prepare for the expedition. She had heard 
of De Soto and Cortez, and now her own Pedro 
w T as to set forth on a voyage of conquest. She 
baked an enormous corn-pone — one that would 
supply his meals for six long days ; then several 
fish were fried, and tea and sugar were added 
to the supplies. 

At break of day Pedro was off, while Juana 
and the little Blancos stood on the beach waving 
a parting farewell. Then back to the cabin 
Juana went, lit a candle before a Madonna, and 
prayed for the safety and success of her own 
knight-errant. 

Two days after the departure of Pedro, the 
boat from Tampa brought to the wharf, near the 
Reed home, the weekly paper. Sitting on the 
veranda after dinner, Thomas Reed began, as 
usual, to read every item of news. One article 


122 PEDRO BLANCO’S RESOLVE 

with a title in bold heavy type was of special 
interest to him. 

“FVR ANIMALS IN FLORIDA OFFER A 
RICH REWARD 

“There is a constantly increasing demand for 
furs supplied by the skins of wild animals and 
the price is constantly advancing. There are a 
good many fur-bearing animals in Florida, coons, 
opossums, skunks, foxes, bears and other kinds. 
At the last big sale of furs in St. Louis, fine 
black skunk skins sold as high as eight dollars 
each. 

“This is a hint for the boys and others of the 
Florida farms and towns, who have never 
trapped at all, or have gone into trapping with 
indifferent effort. Any intelligent boy can 
quickly learn trapping. It isn’t mysterious, and 
it is good sport and one of the best ways to 
make easy money. The boy who traps is his own 
boss, and is doing something that stirs his blood 
with exercise and excitement. Hair of animals 
in warm countries is not as long and dense as 
of animals in cold regions, but some of the Flor- 
ida products are good, and, when in prime con- 
dition, bring good prices.” 

“Well,” said he, turning to his wife, who was 
rocking at his side, “this old adopted state of 
ours is famous for ’most everything. Famous for 
furs! famous for cattle! I read, a few days ago, 
of one cattle ranch in Florida selling seven thou- 
sand head to the Canadian government.” 


PEDRO BLANCO’S RESOLVE 123 


“Why, dear, not only that ; but when the owner 
went out to look over his stock the next morn- 
ing, he could not notice that any cattle were miss- 
ing” 

“Yes, I recall that also. Why, if some one had 
asked me ten years ago about prairie lands and 
cattle in Florida I would have asked him whether 
he was not talking about Texas. But,” he con- 
tinued, turning a page, “this draining business is 
going to be the making of Florida. In a few 
years we’ll drive across the southern part of 
the state on the finest roads in the country. It 
says here that these roads are not surpassed by 
the Hudson River Drives or the Chicago Boule- 
vards.” 

“That makes me think of the boys,” put in 
the wife; “they should be back in a few 
days.” 

“Not if Mr. Green gets interested in any prom- 
ising muck land. He’s a bright man, that same 
Mark Green, a bright man. While he enjoys 
being out with the boys he has an eye to the 
future.” 

“If you think that he’ll extend the trip a week 
or more, their provisions may be exhausted. Be- 
sides, Lod and Clifford are not used to such ir- 
regular meals and a change of diet.” 

“I thought of that myself to-day. I was really 
going to suggest that I go to meet them with a 
supply of fresh bread.” 

“But, how could you find them?” 

“I’d wait on the edge of the ’Glades at the 
source of Shark River. It’s the shortest way 


124 PEDRO BLANCO’S RESOLVE 


home and about the only only way through Dis- 
mal Swamp.” 

“But they may be hungry before they reach 
the swamp.” 

“Possibly; and for this reason I may even 
venture a day’s voyage into the ’Glades.” 

“Well, even if you waited at the edge of the 
Everglades, it would give the boys fresh supplies 
for the last two days of their trip.” 

“Then, suppose I try it,” said the husband ; for, 
as they talked, he read about the further prog- 
ress of the draining, and was curious to see what 
effect the work was having on the great body of 
water. 

That afternoon, willing hands were busy pre- 
paring a supply of fresh food for the return- 
ing campers; and on the following morning Mr. 
Reed was off for the source of the Shark River. 


CHAPTER XVII 

THE COUNCIL OF WAR 

I T was the night after the loss of the chest of 
gold. Mr. Green sat before a camp-fire with 
the boys stretched upon the ground at his side 
and listening eagerly to his conversation. He 
had just come in from his canoe, carrying a box 
in all respects similar to the one which had been 
taken from Lod. In fact, when the lad caught 
a glimpse of the box, he shouted with joy and 
asked Mr. Green how he got it. It was with diffi- 
culty that the leader explained that this was not 
the chest stolen by ’Gator Pete. 

“Well, Clifford and Phil and Lod, at last I 
must tell you the secret. I came out to play a 
trick on you boys, and now the whole affair has 
developed into more than a trick. It has become 
serious indeed, very serious. But we’ll take care 
of the serious part to-morrow.” Then the leader 
went on to explain how he had borrowed the 
box from the Blancos, had taken it apart, had 
ordered the boys not to touch it, so as to excite 
their curiosity, and had finally sunk it in order 
to enjoy the excitement of seeing them find it. 
“And you, Lod,” he said, turning to the boy who 
was still bewildered by all that had happened 
125 


126 THE COUNCIL OF WAR 

within the past few hours; “you wouldn’t find 
my box. I took you to the place time and again. 
Don’t you remember that I told you to fish in 
deep water?” 

“Yes, sir,” but Lod was serious. 

“And to drag your hook along the bottom?” 

“I did it, Mr. Green.” 

“Of course you did it! and there is just where 
the joke was on me. I must have buried my 
treasure too deep! Only to-night I brought it 
closer to shore and put it in three feet of wa- 
ter. I was determined to make you discover it ! 
And then, just think of it!” Here Mr. Green 
assumed a rather serious demeanor and tone of 
voice. “Just think of it ! you found the real box ! 
found it even when it was half covered with muck 
and saw grass! Why, boy, there must be thou- 
sands of dollars’ worth of gold in that box ! thou- 
sands of dollars! thousands! thousands!” His 
voice fell to a whisper. 

“I reck’n there is,” chimed in Lod. 

“Yes, and you’ll bet your knife there is; and 
you’ll win! Of course you’d win! for that box 
which Pete stole from you is full of gold ! full 
to the top ! I know it is ! But we are going to 
get that box, boys,” and the man brought his 
fist down upon the ground, “we’re going to get 
it! ’Gator Pete is a fool. He thinks that I’ll 
follow him all through the leads and that he 
can escape in that way. But I know how I’ll get 
him.” He paused. “We’ll talk about getting 
Pete later. Let me show you my box, box num- 
ber two; the box which I told you not to touch, 


THE COUNCIL OP WAR 127 

the box that fooled me.” The leader was now 
laughing and the boys were in good humor. 
“Look at this/’ he said, taking a number of small 
stones from the box. “These stones must have 
mica in them. I gathered them along the shore. 
This was to be your gold. I was going to tell 
you all kinds of stories about the worth of this 
ore. Yes, I had a good trick to play on you, 
boys, but now the joke’s on me. Well, I am glad 
this box has not been injured by the water.” 
He wiped and dried the sides of the box with 
bunches of grass. “Those Spaniards regard this 
box with a kind of superstitious reverence. The 
little wife thinks that it will one day bring her 
good luck. She called it the good luck box. I 
wouldn’t lose it for a fortune, boys, for I know 
that the poor people would never forgive me. 
But to business, boys, to business.” The leader 
leaped to his feet. 

“This is my plan,” he began: “I’m not going 
to be led aside by that fool of a ’Gator Pete. 
I’m going to leave you in the morning before 
daybreak — you aren’t afraid to stay here 
alone?” 

“No,” came the quick answer from Phil. Clif- 
ford’s reply was not so assuring ; and there was 
just a little lump in Lod’s throat when he at- 
tempted to speak. 

Pretending not to notice the tremor in young 
Speak’s voice, the leader went on: “Of course, 
you’re not afraid to stay here alone. I can’t 
take you with me ; for there may be some shoot- 
ing when Pete and myself meet. There will be 


128 


THE COUNCIL OF WAR 


shooting if he doesn’t give up the box, and I 
know who’ll get the drop. This is my plan, boys, 
I intend to leave before daybreak and row with 
all my strength. I also intend to lire my gun 
occasionally to let Pete know that I am coming. 
He’s a coward ! I don’t believe that he can han- 
dle a rifle well, and I know that he is not used 
to firing from a canoe. If he hits me, it would 
be a chance shot. However, I don’t expect to 
give him an opportunity to shoot at me. When 
he hears me firing I believe that he will pull 
away to the first “lead” in order to escape me. 
In this way he’ll lose time, and I’ll be able to go 
right on. Luckily, I know the direct way to the 
source of Shark River. No doubt, he followed 
us by this route and he’ll attempt to escape by 
the same way. Once I reach this river on the 
edge of the ’Glades, I’ll get that fool! I’ll get 
him, just as sure as shooting! Now, I’ll, I’ll — 
take one of you boys with me — if any one wishes 
to come.” 

There was a pause, while the leader looked 
from one to the other. 

“When you’re shooting at ’Gator Pete and 
’Gator Pete at you, I reck’n I’d like to be some- 
where else,” acknowledged Lod. 

“You are not a true Kentuckian.” 

“I think we’d like to be together,” said Clif- 
ford. 

“I ain’t afraid,” claimed Phil, “but I asree 
with Clif.” 

“With all three of us together, we’ll feel safer, 
won’t we, Lod?” asked young Savage. 


THE COUNCIL OF WAR 129 

“I reck’n so,” and Lod was beginning to take 
the whole affair quite seriously. 

“I want you boys to stay here at least two 
days and signal to me; then you may leave at 
once or may camp for another day. My plan is 
this. I’m to make a bee line for the edge of 
the ’Glades and try to intercept the ’Gator at the 
source of Shark River. Still, I’d like to have 
some idea about our relative positions. I’d like 
to know whether he is in front of me, or whether 
he is to my right or left. I believe that you’ll 
be able to pick him up as soon as it is light ; and 
that you’ll be able to follow both of us with the 
large glass. We may be lost to view behind the 
hummocks and in the heavy saw grass. But, re- 
member that one must be in the deads’ to make 
any progress, and that the grass is not high 
where a canoe goes. At least, this is not usually 
the case; I believe, then, that you will be able 
to follow our movements quite accurately.” 

It was evident to Mark Green that his young 
friends were following his words with interest. 

He resumed: “We won’t do anything until ten 
o’clock ; for by that time I’ll be some miles from 
the island, and you'll no doubt be able to pick 
up Pete’s canoe. I’ll take out my watch at ten 
o’clock to the second; and’ll get my little spy- 
glass. Luckily we have two; you can keep the 
large one. Well, at ten o’clock I’ll drop my pole 
and take out my glass, I won’t be able to hear 
the report, but I can see the smoke from that old 
Colt revolver, for it’s like a smoke stack. We’ll 
have these signals : Two shots will be fired at ten 


130 


THE COUNCIL OF WAR 


o’clock. Then three shots will mean that ’Gator 
Pete is right on ahead of me, two shots will mean 
that he is going to the left, one that he is going 
to my right, and four shots will mean that you 
have not seen him.” 

“Will that be your right, when you are facing 
us?” asked Clifford. 

“A sensible question, Clif, and I may have for- 
gotten to explain further. Let me see! You’ll 
be looking away from the island. If he goes to 
your right, fire the one shot, and two if he goes 
to your left.” 

“Can’t I shoot the pistol?” asked Phil Reed, 
conscious of the fact that he had handled the 
weapon before. 

“I was just going to make that suggestion. It’s 
your revolver and you’ve used it before; you 
should do the firing. Clifford, you are to be the 
man with the spyglass. You have had experi- 
ence in getting a fdcus and all that kind of thing. 
Let the other two help, but as long as you can 
stand it, you should use the glass. Lod, you can 
be the official time-keeper. Luckily, Clifford’s 
watch and mine keep together fairly well. Clif 
will let you take his timepiece. Don’t forget to 
have our two watches set before I leave in the 
morning.” 

This arrangement seemed satisfactory, as it 
gave every boy some official duty. It was further 
agreed that the signals should be given at every 
two hours until six o’clock. 

“If I should get near Pete, I intend to fire the 
sporting gun several times in quick succession. 


THE COUNCIL OF WAR 


131 


It is difficult to judge the direction of sounds and 
their distance. When 'Gator Pete hears one 
charge after another, heTl take to cover and lie 
hid until he's half starved ; then I'll beat him to 
the edge of the 'Glades." 

The party went to look over the supplies. They 
found three cans of macaroni, four of pears and 
about two pounds of dried beans, with a few 
pieces of cheese and tongue. Luckily, the little 
pool was full of fish. 

Four large mullets were roasted that night and 
wrapped in heavy paper. Mr. Green took one of 
the cans of macaroni and one of pears. He also 
put aside a supply of tea and the little gasoline 
stove. His rain-coat, blanket and fishing lines 
completed his outfit. He would also carry the 
borrowed box. 

The night was not cool; but the heavy dew 
made a fire quite welcome. Around the glowing 
faggots the man and boys sat until far in the 
night. Just as they were about to retire, the 
leader gave further directions in regard to sig- 
nals. “I've got another idea," he began ; “at ten 
o'clock at night signal to me with fire-brands. 
Let us see how these pine branches burn." He 
gathered up from the fire a stick about the thick- 
ness of one's arm and whirled it in the air. 
“Great!" he exclaimed as the sparks went scat- 
tering overhead. “To-morrow you can cut one of 
the pine trees and let the tar drip ; then at night 
smear the stuff over some faggots and wave the 
burning brands from the top of the tree. The 
signals will be the same as with the revolver. 


132 THE COUNCIL OF WAR 

Each of you get a brand ready ; if Pete is in front 
the three of you wave and wave; if he's at the 
right wave with one brand, and with two if he’s 
at the left. Four torches will mean that you 
have not seen the robber. In that case, Clifford, 
you can handle two torches.” 

“If only one’s to be waved can’t I do it?” w T as 
the request of Lod. 

“Yes, yes,” came the answer of the leader, 
“Phil has the revolver and Clif the spyglass; you 
will be the head fire-brand waver.” 

“And if only two are needed you can have the 
second one,” such was the generous offer of Phil 
to Clifford. 

Mr. Green further explained the object of the 
signals by night : “’Gator Pete’s a coward, a big 
coward! I’m surprised that he ever ventured 
alone into the ’Glades. When he hears the shoot- 
ing during the day and sees fire-brands waving 
in the air at night, he’ll think that every Seminole 
Indian in Florida is on the warpath. He’ll be 
so frightened that he’ll come up to me to surren- 
der. Boys, I’m going to get that box and the gold. 
With your help I’ll get both.” Such were the 
assuring words of the leader, as all prepared to 
take a short rest. The coming day was to prove 
an eventful one in the lives of the man and the 
boys. 


CHAPTER XVIII 

THE SIGNALS FROM THE BAY TREE 

O N the morning following the escape of ’Gator 
Pete with the box, Mr. Green was ready for 
the pursuit. “Boys,” he began, “you’ll remember 
the signals. Exactly at ten o’clock you are to 
lire two shots from the highest branch of the bay 
tree. Then, if Pete is on ahead of me you’re to 
fire three shots, if he is to the right you are to 
fire one shot and if he is going to the left you are 
to fire two shots. Four shots will mean that you 
have not seen him. I have changed my mind 
about one thing: don’t kill the bear and don’t 
even fire at the bear. A bear this time of the year 
is no more dangerous than a chicken ; but if it is 
wounded it becomes frantic. If I could leave you 
this gun and the shells with buck shot you might 
kill the critter; but you wouldn’t have much of 
a chance with the revolvers. You might sue* 
ceed in wounding it and then no one knows what 
would happen. So just make a noise and frighten 
it away. It’s sure to come back after such a 
dinner on fish. Yell at it! throw fire brands at 
it ! but don’t kill it! don’t shoot at it.” He did 
not wait for an answer, but shook hands with 

133 


134 SIGNALS FROM THE BAY TREE 


each of the lads and stepped into his canoe, the 
Little Tarpon. 

As it was only faintly light, the leader was 
soon out of view. Back to the camp the boys 
walked slowly. Phil was the first to speak. “See 
here, boys, we ain’t going to get frightened over 
this. I was here all alone for weeks ; it’s all right 
when you get used to it.” 

“Of course we won’t get frightened,” were the 
outspoken words of Clifford ; “of course we won’t 
get frightened.” 

“Bet you my knife, I don’t,” said Lod. 

“How do you know?” asked Phil. “You 
haven’t tried the way I have.” 

“I reck’n not ; but I just feel like I won’t mind 
it.” 

“None of us will,” protested Clifford. 

“We’ve only got three days,” said Phil. It had 
been agreed that if the leader did not return or 
was not seen returning at the end of the third 
day, that the boys were to leave the island and 
follow him to Dismal Swamp. Mr. Green had 
full confidence in Phil’s ability to keep the 
“leads” and at the same time he thought it safer 
for them not to accompany him. Moreover, he 
needed them to direct him in his pursuit of the 
thief. 

The plan which the leader had devised was 
clever, and gave every promise of success. From 
the lookout at the top of the bay tree, by using 
the large spyglass, one could follow the move- 
ments of a canoe for many miles. For fully six 
miles the path through the saw grass could easily 


SIGNALS FROM THE BAY TREE 135 


be discerned. With the small glass, which he car- 
ried with him, Mark Green could catch the smoke 
of a revolver. He would thus be able to know 
with certainty whether he was on the trail of 
’Gator Pete. 

Mark Green had not yet decided what plan he 
would follow in case he succeeded in overtaking 
the fugitive. He had a quicker canoe than ’Gator 
Pete and he was a better oarsman. His probable 
plan would be to circumvent the robber and await 
his coming at the source of Shark River. Even 
by taking a longer route he felt that he could 
win the race to the edge of Dismal Swamp. With 
high hopes of success he plied his paddle briskly 
in the cool of the awakening day. 

Grouped around the fire at the side of the 
tent, the boys waited for sufficient light to begin 
their inspection from the lookout ; for, according 
to directions, one of them was to follow the move- 
ments of Mr. Green’s canoe and at the same time 
try to pick up that of ’Gator Pete. 

“Say, Clif,” said Lod, “I reck’n you’re head of 
this expedition now.” 

“Yes, that’s what pa said,” were the words of 
Phil. 

“I remember it now,” acknowledged the larger 
boy; “I didn’t think anything like this would 
happen.” 

“I’ll help you,” said Phil, for he felt that his 
experience would be of great value. 

“We won’t have any leader,” protested Clifford 
Savage, “we’ll all be leaders.” 

“No, we won’t! you’re the leader! I reck’n 


136 SIGNALS FROM THE BAY TREE 

that’s what Mr. Reed wanted,” emphatically 
retorted Lod, in his desire to carry out the 
instructions of his elder. 

“ ’Course you’]l be leader,” again urged Phil. 

“All right, boys, then we’ll start. Phil you 
take the first lookout.” 

“Suppose we go along,” added Lod, for he felt 
safer in a tree than on the ground with the cer- 
tainty that a bear was in the vicinity. 

Up the tree scampered the three boys, Phil 
carrying the large glass. It was quite light now. 

“We don’t need a glass,” called out Phil when 
he was about half way up the tree. 

“I see Mr. Green and his canoe,” said Clifford. 

“I reck’n all of us do and we don’t need the 
glass,” added Lod. 

“He’s waving at us,” shouted Phil. The boys 
took off their hats and waved in reply. To the 
very topmost branch the boy climbed with his two 
companions following close beneath him. 

Then began a long vigil. At times Mr. Green 
would disappear behind a hummock; and even 
the tall saw grass occasionally hid him and his 
canoe from view. Phil turned his glass to right 
and left, but could get no trace of ’Gator Pete. 

“Say, boys, I reck’n I am getting hungry,” 
cried out Lod. 

“That’s a fact,” replied Clifford, “we haven’t 
had our breakfast.” 

“You two get breakfast while I watch,” said 
Phil. 

The two boys were soon bending over the fire 


SIGNALS FROM THE RAY TREE 137 


where a kettle was boiling and coals were ready 
for frying fish. 

“This is great fun,” said the larger boy. 

“Bet it is!” 

“Think Mr. Green will get Pete?” 

“Bet he does !” 

“Will he kill him?” 

“I reck’n not, but he’ll get the box.” 

So they wondered and talked, and talked and 
wondered, until they had eaten breakfast. “You 
run up and take the glass while Phil gets some- 
thing to eat,” suggested Clifford. 

Lod was soon at the top of the bay tree, proud 
to have the task of following the canoe through 
the “leads.” Soon he was joined by Clifford and 
Phil, for the hour for the first signal was draw- 
ing near. Neither Phil nor Lod had been able to 
find any trace of ’Gator Pete. Clifford now took 
the glass and swept it oyer and again over the 
watery waste ; but there was no sign of the fugi- 
tive. Every “lead” and every hummock was 
examined. The whole life of the Everglades 
seemed to pass before his vision. The flash 
of a pelican as it dipped into the water, the 
squirming of helpless fledglings as the fangs 
of a black snake reached over their swaying 
nests, the stately tread of blue herons wading 
in the shallows, and the graceful flight of egrets 
sailing over islands and feathery fern tops; 
all these were pictures of interest to him. How- 
ever, there was no sign of the fugitive. Not for 
a minute did Clifford Savage relax his search for 


138 SIGNALS FROM THE BAY TREE 


’Gator Pete. “I should have begun earlier to 
look for Pete,” said the boy recalling that Mr. 
Green had appointed him the official to use the 
glass. 

Lod took out his watch : “It is only five min- 
utes of ten,” he said. 

Phil drew the big Colt revolver from its case 
strapped to his side; then he seated himself 
firmly in the crotch of a large limb, and with his 
left hand grasped a branch overhead. “Four 
shots?” he asked. 

“Yes, four, for I can’t find the other canoe. 
Let us know the exact minute, Lod.” 

“I reck’n I will.” 

“Mr. Green has dropped his paddle,” con- 
tinued Clifford. “He’s taking his glass from his 
pocket. — I know he’ll be disappointed. — How 
much time, Lod?” 

“Two minutes.” 

“Ready, Phil?” 

“Yes,” and the boy grasped the branch over- 
head tightly. 

“Four shots?” 

“Yes.” 

“Too bad we can’t let him know about Pete.” 

“One half minute,” called out Lod — “ten sec- 
onds — five — and now — shoot.” 

Fire and smoke sprouted through the leaves of 
the bay tree. 

“I didn’t know that this old Colt pistol made so 
much noise and so much smoke,” remarked Phil. 

“Mr. Green is waving back,” said Clifford; “he 
saw the smoke.” 


SIGNALS FROM THE BAY TREE 139 


“Has he fired his gun?-’ asked Phil. 

“Didn’t see him do it.” 

“What’ll we do?” 

“Don’t know. But I’ll stick right here and 
try to find the other canoe before eleven o’clock.” 
All in vain did the boy bring his glass to bear 
upon every visible lead. The time came for the 
second signal, but with no signs of the fugitive. 


CHAPTER XIX 

LOD HAS A SUGGESTION 

W hile Clifford Savage kept watch from the 
lookout, the other boys prepared dinner. 
“Bet you my knife/’ suddenly cried Lod, “I 
know something.” 

“About the gold chest, I am sure.” 

“No, about another gold chest. Bet you my 
knife, there’s another chest, where I found the 
first one.” 

“All wrong! all wrong!” affirmed Phil. “The 
Spaniard brought only one chest ; that’s what the 
Indians always said.” 

“How did they know? They never saw the one 
I found.” 

“They never saw it, but they knew about it; 
and they knew there was only one.” 

“There’s no harm looking, I reck’n.” 

“No; after dinner, you can dive and swim all 
around the landing. Clif and myself will do the 
watching.” 

“Yes, yes, but suppose — one of — those bears — 
comes around?” 

“Won’t hurt you.” 

“Say, Phil Reed, when a bear’s around, this 
boy wants to be in a tree, or have a gun or be with 
other fellows.” 


140 


LOD HAS A SUGGESTION 


141 


“You’re safe,” argued Phil, “you’ve still got 
that rope over the willow tree. In case Mr. Bear 
comes, you can easily get up into the willow.” 

“That’s a fact; then Mr. Green said they 
weren’t dangerous. After dinner, I’ll dive around 
the end of the landing. It won’t do any harm I 
reck’n.” 

“I reck’n not,” came the reply. 

“Hello! boys, I’m coming down for something 
to eat,” shouted Clifford. 

“Can you find Mr. Green’s canoe again?” 
asked Phil. 

“Yes, I will ; he’s in an open place with the saw 
grass very thick and no hummocks around him. 
I’ll be able to pick him up before he gets away 
from the place.” 

“Lod thinks he’s going to find another box,” 
laughed Phil, when Clif had joined the other 
two. 

“I reck’n I’m not sure, but it’s possible.” So 
earnestly did Lod talk about the possibility of a 
second chest that the other boys began to share 
his enthusiasm. Nothing would be lost by the 
effort, for Phil and Clif could easily watch 
through the afternoon. 

After dinner, then, the two boys climbed the 
bay tree for their long vigil, while Lod went off 
to the landing to search for another chest of 
gold. 

Slipping into his swimming suit the boy was 
soon feeling among the roots and the decaying 
matter which overlay the muck bottom. At one 
time his hand touched a hard object. Could it 


142 


LOD HAS A SUGGESTION 


be the side of a box? No ! it was only a piece of 
pine which had been dropped from the landing 
and which an unusual amount of resin had caused 
to sink. However, the incident seemed to give 
him courage, so that he dived and worked under 
the water until he was quite exhausted. 

“How many chests have you found ?” came the 
taunt from the bay tree. 

“How many canoes have you found ?” was the 
answer to Phil. 

“Say, you’d better look out !” cried Clif, “that 
big bear will run away with the box.” 

Lod didn’t care to listen to bear stories ; but he 
took a glance at the willow tree and felt that he 
could soon reach a place of safety. “If I get a 
second box, it’s mine,” he replied. 

“Then if we help Mr. Green to recover the lost 
chest, it’s ours,” claimed Clifford Savage. 

“No, I reck’n that’s already mine.” And the 
boys continued to taunt each other with the fail- 
ure to find either another chest or another canoe. 
In fact, the two boys in the bay tree were as much 
disappointed as was their companion. 

Lod dived and worked, cut his hands with the 
sharp saw grass, and, all but choked himself sev- 
eral times by not coming to the surface in time 
to get a breath of air. Finally, he gave up the 
search, dressed and went for fiddler-crabs to fish 
for sheepheads. He was more successful in fish- 
ing than in looking for gold, and w’as cheered by 
his companions after he had landed two prizes. 
Then the fish ceased to bite, and Lloyd Speaks sat 
in silence on the landing looking out over the 


LOD HAS A SUGGESTION 


143 


water, looking at the birds and clouds, looking at 
the hummocks w T hich in the summer haze seemed 
to drift from their natural moorings. 

Gradually the boy’s eyes were filled with tears, 
and sobs came unbidden ; then the tears trickled 
down upon his hand and shirt sleeve. In vain 
he tried to check the tears and to stifle the sobs ! 
It was the reaction of the day’s experience ! 

Few boys of the age of Lod have had the experi- 
ence of being attacked by a robber and threatened 
with death. In the excitement of the escape of 
’Gator Pete, in the interest of listening to Mr. 
Green’s story and his plans for capturing the 
thief, and finally in the departure of the leader — 
all emotions had been checked. But now that he 
was alone and his second search for gold had been 
unsuccessful, the pent-up feelings and fears found 
an expression in tears and sighs. 

Then Lod cried audibly, and the tears flowed 
more freely. Then a tremor came over the boy — 
a reaction of the fright and strain of the pre- 
vious day when he stood face to face with ’Gator 
Pete. Luckily, his companions were not present. 
No! no! they must not see him crying! what 
would they think of him? what would they say? 
the tears must not flow, and his heart must not 
heave ! But with all his efforts, he could not hold 
back the tears ; — do what he would his heart beat 
violently ! 

These were dark moments in the life of Lod 
Speaks! he could not understand the sudden 
change which had come over him ! Life had been 
all sunshine! the expedition had brought only 


144 


LCD HAS A SUGGESTION 


joy, but now — now sorrow seemed to have over- 
whelmed him! 

In the meanwhile, Phil had come down for a 
drink of water. Creeping up behind Lod he had 
at first intended to yell and frighten him; but, 
seeing that the boy was crying, and not wishing to 
humiliate him, he crept back to the tree unob- 
served. 

“Lod is crying,” he whispered to Clifford. 

“Sick, you think?” 

“No! just nervous over yesterday; but, say 
Clif, we mustn’t let him know that I saw him. 
That would spoil the rest of the trip. Lod would 
feel bad about it,” 

“You’re right; we’ll keep the matter a secret 
and not tell him that you saw him.” 

“We’ll just make everything happy -like; say, 
don’t talk about bears.” 

“Maybe we’ve frightened him.” 

“Yes, Lod’s as old as we are, but he’s something 
of a child,” and Phil Reed was rather proud that 
he could take the position of protecting his com- 
panion. 

In less than half an hour Lod came walking 
slowly toward the bay tree. 

“Come on! come on!” shouted Clif, “it’s your 
time to use the glass.” 

“No luck ! I see,” cried out Phil, “but it’s fine 
up here. Come on and take your turn with the 
glass, or do you wish to shoot the pistol?” 

“I wouldn’t mind trying,” said Lod, and from 
the action of his companions he judged that they 
were unaware of his troubles. 


LOD HAS A SUGGESTION 145 

“Hurry on !” added Clif, “it’s only five minutes 
to three o’clock.” 

Up the tree climbed the boy, trying to be brave 
and to conceal his real feelings. Phil handed 
him the pistol. “Let her go,” he said ; “it’s time.” 

“How many shots?” 

“Four ! we haven’t seen ’Gator Pete.” 

Lod closed his eyes and sent four shots from 
the foliage of the bay tree. 

With the noise and excitement all trouble 
seemed to vanish; Lloyd Speaks was himself 
again. The boys chatted and guessed and made 
plans for the coming night. So interested did 
Lod become, that the fears and anguish which he 
had experienced on the landing were forgotten — 
all forgotten. The eyes were dry, and the heart 
no longer thumped with an unnatural beat within 
his bosom. 

The afternoon wore slowly away with no fur- 
ther excitement. For the most part the Little 
Tarpon was visible, as it wound its way through 
the saw grass ; but only the practiced eye of Clif- 
ford could at times follow it. Often it seemed 
but a dark patch of the grass ; often it appeared 
no larger than a blue heron ; often it was part of 
a hummock and blended with the green growth 
of the mangrove bushes. 

Phil and Lod went below to prepare supper 
while Clif kept his post in the tree. Evening was 
drawing on. 

Just before sunset peculiar shadows crept over 
the waters, and objects stood out more clearly 
than when the sun was beating with force upon 


146 LCD HAS A SUGGESTION 

the waters. The Little Tarpon seemed to be 
Sted above the surface, while every bunch of 
saw grass was clear cut and distinct. 

Over to the left the boy picked up a moving 
obiect Then he lost it. His hands trembled. He 
rested the glass against a branch, shifted his pom- 
tion and looked again. Could it be the canoe oi 
’Gator Pete’ And was that a third canoe . Y , 
Se r coSd be no doubt of it There was M*e 
Tt+tip T»rr)on and over to tlie left in tun 

to the boys, “found two of them! found three. 

All breathless and excited, the two lads scam- 
pered up the tree. But before they could pick up 
the canoes, twilight had come over the Ever 
glades. 


CHAPTER XX 

THE TRIALS OF A LEADER 

I N silence the three boys sat on the branches of 
the bay tree while twilight faded into dark- 
ness. ' 

“Wonder how that third canoe got into the 
’Glades?” asked Clifford. 

“Why, don’t you remember that Mr. Green 
pointed out the regular leads running from the 
big swamp to this hummock? Don’t you remem- 
ber that Mr. Green pointed it out to us and 
showed how the saw grass had been beaten 
down?” asked Phil. 

“Yes, I remember that.” 

“Well, then, some one is coming out through 
the ’Glades and, of course, he took the beaten 
leads.” 

“Is he coming to fight or will he help us?” 
“Don’t know.” 

<r Will he help Mr. Green or will he be on the 
side of ’Gator Pete; or could it be Mr. Reed?” 

Phil paused a moment before answering. 
“Why would father come, and. besides, how would 
he know the way?” 

“I’m just guessing,” said Clifford, “but I wish 
I knew the fellow’s name and whether he’ll be 
with Mr. Green or against him.” 

147 


148 THE TRIALS OF A LEADER 


“He’ll be with him.” 

“How do you know?” 

“Everybody in this part of the state is with 
Mr. Green* everybody but ’Gator Pete.” These 
assuring words of Phil gave encouragement to 
his companion. 

“Bet you I know who the fellow is,” put in 
Lod ; “it’s a man coming out to get feathers.” 

“It’s against the law to kill birds and take their 
feathers this time of the year,” explained Phil. 

“I reckon they don’t mind the law,” protested 
Lod. 

“Law or no law, I’m hungry and here I go for 
supper.” Clifford slipped down the tree, fol- 
lowed by his two companions. 

In the bright light of the camp-fire and in the 
interest of cooking something to eat, the boys 
forgot all troubles and the problem of the three 
canoes. However, no sooner had the evening meal 
been finished than the discussion of the third 
canoe and its occupant was immediately resumed. 
Was he some idle adventurer poling his way 
among the leads? Was he an Indian, and if so, 
was he friendly or would he prove an enemy and 
a robber? Could it be Mr. Reed? Every possible 
explanation was offered to account for the pres- 
ence of the stranger. But with all their con- 
jectures, they were far from hitting upon the 
name of the newcomer. 

The canoe which Clifford had seen in the even- 
ing twilight was poled by Peter Blanco. At the 
urgent demand of his wife, he had ventured into 
the Everglades to get the box which had been 


THE TRIALS OF A LEADER 149 


loaned to Mr. Green. But it was only later, that 
the boys learned of the adventure of the Span- 
iard. The mere fact that a third canoe was visi- 
ble from the island, added mystery to the situ- 
ation and caused considerable anxiety to the 
young campers. 

As the conversation went on into the night, 
Clifford seemed to feel more and more that a 
responsibility had been laid upon his shoulders. 
According to Mr. Reed, he was to be leader if 
anything happened; and now more than one 
thing had happened. Mr. Green was no longer 
with them, and the situation had been compli- 
cated by the appearance of a third party in the 
vicinity of Lookout Island. Well, he would be 
brave and would not let his smaller companions 
know his thoughts or his anxieties. 

“Come, boys, let’s try the fire-brands,” he said 
wishing to divert the conversation. 

Lod was up in an instant and ran for his torch. 
“ We’re great fellows,” he cried, “we dipped our 
pine branches in the tar and then left them in the 
sun; not a drop of the tar left on my piece of 
pine.” 

“Why didn’t we think of that?” asked Phil. 
“I always forget that it was winter when I was 
in the ’Glades. Even then the sun was warm, 
but wouldn’t melt tar this way,” and he looked at 
his torch. “Luckily the tar don’t sink into the 
ground like water would do. It’s just a little 
trouble to get the stuff to stick to the wood 
again.” 

“And only a little fun doing the work over 


150 THE TRIALS OF A LEADER 


again/’ were the encouraging words of the leader. 

“I reck’n you like work/’ added Lod. “Well, I 
don’t ; and I wish we had the fire-brands finished 
and could take a short nap before it’s time to sig- 
nal again.” 

“You and Phil take a nap. I’ll get the signals 
ready and wake both of you.” 

“Suppose you fall asleep?” 

“But I won’t.” 

“Or, the bears come?” 

“Well, I’ll have the fire-brands ready to 
frighten them. Mr. Green said that bears were 
afraid of fire and especially of torches.” 

“I reck’n you’d yell for us.” 

“Or climb a tree and leave us to be eaten alive,” 
said Phil, forgetting that he and Clifford had 
agreed not to talk about bears. 

Lod did not care to hear those words from Phil. 
In fact, any reference to bears sent creepy sensa- 
tions through him . Even during the day thoughts 
of bears did not appeal to him, but at night 
especially, he was anxious to have the conversa- 
tion turn on other topics. “You fellows stop talk- 
ing about bears,” he pleaded, and, “I know what 
I am going to do,” he added. 

“Sleep in a tree?” suggested Phil. 

“I reck’n not. I might fall and break my neck.” 

“That’s better than being devoured by big, hun- 
gry bears !” Phil emphasized the words “big” and 
“hungry,” again breaking his resolution. 

“They are not big bears and not hungry either, 
after eating all those fish.” 


THE TRIALS OF A LEADER 151 

“Well, what are you going to do?” asked Clif- 
ford. 

“I am going to say special prayers to my Angel 
Guardian.” 

“I’ve been doing that every night.” 

“So have I; but now I’m going to say extra 
prayers. I once heard my mother say that we 
should pray longer when we are in trouble.” 

“We’ll join you,” added Phil, who with all his 
experience and long weeks of solitude in the Ever- 
glades had prayed with added fervor. 

“I know the prayer to the Angel Guardian by 
heart ; if you fellows will join in with me, I’ll say 
it out loud.” 

“Let us say it three times, and all together,” 
suggested the leader. 

In the meanwhile, the boys were scraping the 
tar from the ground and applying it to the pine 
sticks. Clifford then experimented with his 
torch. Over his head he waved it for fully five 
minutes, then he ran to the far end of the island 
and in the darkness signaled to his companions. 

To Lod the smoking flame seemed a call for the 
gathering of bears and Indians. He remembered 
stories which he had read of savages dancing 
around camp-fires and with scalps hanging from 
their shoulders. But he turned the thoughts 
away and lighted one of his own fire-brands to 
see how it w T ould burn. 

“What does this mean?” called out Clifford, 
when he came within shouting distance and 
waved his torch. 


152 THE TRIALS OF A LEADER 


“It means that ’Gator Pete is on the right/’ 
was the answer from the two lads. 

“And what will it mean if two of us have 
torches?” 

“That he’s at the left.” 

“And three?” 

“That he’s on ahead.” 

“Four?” 


“That he’s not been seen.” 

“Good,” cried out the leader. “And now,” he 
continued, as he came up to the camp, “you two 
take a short nap. I’ll watch ; later, both of you 
can sit up while I take a rest.” 

The smaller boys were only too willing to 
steal a sleep, for the exercise and excitement of 
the day had drawn heavily upon their physical 
strength. 


In a very few minutes Clifford Savage saw that 
his two companions were in the land of slumbers. 
As he sat there before the dying embers, the 
responsibility of his leadership came upon him. 
Life had never brought him care or trouble. 
When starting on the expedition he had no 
thought of anything but fun and adventure: but 
now there seemed to be danger ahead, danger for 
Mr. Green, danger for the two sleeping compan- 
ions, danger for himself. He had succeeded so 
tar in concealing his anxieties; but could he con- 
tinue to bear the responsibility of leadership and 
show no signs of worry? Could he be brave in 
this his first experience of danger? He would 
try ! He would make every effort to be brave and 
to encourage the other boys. 


THE TRIALS OF A LEADER 153 


In the water there was the splash of a fish! 
How loud it sounded in the stillness of the night ! 
Then overhead there was a call of a bird. And 
the insects ! why did they disturb the island with 
such shrill notes? and the number seemed magni- 
fied a thousandfold ! 

Clifford arose and stirred the embers of the 
fire. He could not sit there in silence. Down 
to the shore he strolled and put his foot on the 
prow of the canoe. Would not a few minutes of 
exercise bring relief from the strain? Into the 
Raud he stepped, took the paddle into his hands 
and pushed the frail craft into a lead. 

A familiar lead it was, one along which he had 
passed and repassed during the camping days. 
The cool night air was refreshing; the move- 
ment over the water brought distraction; the 
dip of the paddle seemed to counteract the noise 
of birds and insects. 

Over the dark water he slowly paddled and 
paddled. His mind was relieved, and all anxiety 
seemed to flee away. On and on he pushed the 
Raud — on and on through the twisting path 
among the saw grass. 

Finally he turned the prow of the canoe, wish- 
ing to regain the camp before the other boys 
awoke. To his astonishment he could not see 
the camp-fire. As he had not studied the posi- 
tion of the stars they could in no way be a guide 
to him. On and on he went, but every dip of his 
paddle brought him farther and farther from 
Lookout Island. 


CHAPTER XXI 

FALSE SIGNALS 

“\A7 AKE U P* wa ^ e U P> Lod!” 

V V No answer came from the sleeping boy. 

“Wake up! don’t you hear? wake up!” 

Young Speaks rolled in his cot and pulled the 
blanket over his head. 

“Wake up! I say! Clif’s gone and the canoe!” 

“Is Phil awake?” 

“I’m Phil. Clif’s gone and the canoe !” 

“What’s your hurry?” 

“Hurry nothing ! I’ve been running around the 
island for fifteen minutes. Don’t you hear me? 
Clif’s gone and the canoe !” 

“What’s the matter?” 

“Everything’s the matter. Clif’s gone and the 
canoe!’ Phil Reed snatched the covering from 
the sleeper and shook him violently. 

“Gee! Why can’t a fellow sleep?” 

“No time for sleeping! Clif’s gone! you hear! 
Clif’s gone and the canoe’s gone!” 

“Gone where?” 

“Gone! that’s all I know!” 

“How’ll we get home?” Lod sat up, half aware 
of what had happened. 

“Don’t know.” 


154 


FALSE SIGNALS 155 

“What? what you saying? Clif and the canoe 
not here?” 

“No! Can’t find ’m anywhere, and I’ve been 
yelling. But I know what we’ll do. We’ll climb 
up the bay tree and wave the torches.” 

“What for?” 

“So he can find his way back.” 

“Suppose ’Gator Pete stole him?” 

“Suppose he did ; it won’t do any harm to give 
the alarm.” 

Lod now fully realized that he and Phil were 
alone. Obedient to the command given him, he 
took a torch, lit it and followed Phil toward the 
tree. 

“We’ll just wave and wave the torches. Maybe 
Clif’s not far away,” said Phil. 

“Wonder where he went.” 

“Hard to say, Lod ; but I don’t believe he’s far 
away.” 

“I reck’n ’Gator Pete didn’t come back and 
steal the canoe.” 

“How could he take Clif?” 

“At least without our hearing him.” 

“Hear him!” repeated Phil Reed, “hear him! 
why, boy, he could have carried the island away 
and you wouldn’t have known it.” 

“I reck’n I wasn’t sleeping much.” 

“That’s what you say now, but I thought I’d 
never get you awake.” 

The boys were now climbing the bay tree. 
Overhead they tossed their fire-brands, while the 
weird shadows of the branches came and went 
amidst the foliage. 


156 


FALSE SIGNALS 


“How long will our torches hold out?” asked 
Lod. 

“I was thinking of that. I believe that one 
will do just as well as two.” 

“And how long will we have to signal?” 

“Until Clif gets back to the island. He no 
doubt sees us and is following the lights as fast 
as he can. That is, if he is not a prisoner of 
’Gator Pete. Let us hope for the best, Lod, and 
let us pray.” Time wore on, and the task of 
holding the torches became tiresome. 

In the meanwhile, Clifford Savage was working 
his way toward the island. As soon as he had 
realized that he was lost among the saw grass, 
he resolved to wait the light of day. He only 
hoped that his young companions would not 
awake and find him missing. 

When he saw the torches he knew at once that 
his companions were aware of his absence and 
were signalling to him. He was not far away but 
in the Everglades one could not follow a straight 
path. 

Once he came so close to the island that he 
thought his voice would carry to his companions. 
“Halloo! halloo!” he shouted. But no answer 
came back. In vain he tried to force his way 
through the heavy saw grass. No ! no ! it was use- 
less to try to reach the camp in that direction. 
How long would the boys continue to signal to 
him? 

Clifford now resolved to pick out the leads, 
even if his progress was slow and his canoe 
twisted among the open places in the grass. 


FALSE SIGNALS 


157 


Slowly he neared the lights. If only the boys 
would continue the signals for a few minutes 
longer, no doubt he would be able to see the camp- 
fire. 

One of the lights was suddenly extinguished 
and the hopes of the lost boy fell. But the other 
waved on and on. He was closer now — closer 
and closer. He saw the camp-fire; the lead was 
familiar to him; he was safe! 

Noiselessly he reached the island and ran up 
to the bay tree, where the boys were still waving 
and waving the fire-brand. 

“I wonder whether he is any closer,” asked 
Lod after some minutes of silence. 

“He is closer and right here,” came a reply 
from below. 

“Hurrah! hurrah!” shouted the boys in the 
tree, for they recognized the voice of their lost 
companion. 

Soon the boys were shaking hands — shaking 
hands as if they had not seen each other in 
weeks. Clifford Savage explained in a few words 
how it happened that he had been lost. 

“Those torches saved me, Phil and Lod ; I had 
given up and was just about to lie down in the 
canoe and wait for morning. I didn’t know where 
I was going. I wasn’t frightened ; but I’m glad 
to be back. You bet I am.” 

“Bet you my knife, I am too!” said Lod. 

“Come to think of it,” interrupted Phil, “we 
mixed the signals for Mr. Green. What will he 
think of those torches burning and waving for 
half an hour or more?” 


158 


FALSE SIGNALS 


“He’ll think we’ve gone crazy,” asserted Clif- 
ford. “But it doesn’t matter. You remember 
that the lights were to frighten ’Gator Pete and 
I believe you two did that. They looked like 
bright flames burning in the sky. *1 believe that 
I would have been scared had I not known who 
were waving the torches. But, say, boys, it’s 
half past ten; at eleven we must have the real 
signals ready. Can’t you two watch while I take 
a cat nap?” 

“Of course we can,” said Phil. 

“Yes, it’s our time, Clif,” assented Lod. 

“Besides,” added young Reed, “we’ve got to 
fix some more torches, for we used up all we had.” 

“You know how to do the work. I simply must 
have a nap.” 

The boys walked to the camp, where Clifford 
Savage threw himself upon a cot and was soon 
fast asleep. 

“We’re going to have difficulty in preparing the 
signals,” whispered Phil. 

“How’s that?” 

“Our supply of tar has run out.” 

“Can’t we cut more branches?” 

“Yes, but we need the heat of the sun to make 
them drip. But let me see. If we cut the 
branches rather short and put one end into the 
fire, the heat will drive out the tar.” 

“How many do we need?” 

“Two, only two, for you remember that Clif 
saw the canoes to the left of Mr. Green. We can 
soon collect enough tar for two fire-brands.” 

“Why, we gave the right signals to Mr. Green 


FALSE SIGNALS 


159 


when we were helping Cliff,” exclaimed Lod. 

“Not so loud! you’ll wake Clif. We did give 
the right signals, but we spoiled them later when 
w^e dropped one of the torches.” 

In the meanwhile, the boys were cutting the 
pine branches and placing the ends in the fire. 
Into a can the soft resin dripped until a sufficient 
quantity was collected. The work was finished a 
few minutes before eleven o’clock; then Clifford 
was awakened. 

“Sorry to spoil your sleep,” said Phil, shaking 
young Savage. 

“Torches ready?” asked the boy, leaping to his 
feet at once. 

“Yes, four of them ; we need only two at a time. 
But say ! we sent the right signals to Mr. Green 
when we were directing you. At least, we did 
so at first, then we dropped one of the fire- 
brands. What will Mr. Green think?” 

“Don’t exactly know, but at any rate we’ll send 
him the right signals now. Of course he won’t 
understand that there are two canoes to the left. 
If the first one is a stranger, Mr. Green may have 
some one to help him. At any rate we’ll send the 
right signals this time.” 

“I hope they scare that old Alligator Pete,” 
affirmed Lod. 

“And make him give up the box,” added Phil. 

“Hurry boys,” came the words from Clifford 
Savage, “it’s nearly eleven.” 

Two of the torches were lighted, and with 
them the boys ran for the tree. 

“Halloo! Mr. Pete, we are after you!” called 


100 


FALSE SIGNALS 


out Clif as he waved one of the fire-brands. 

“And I reck’n we’re going to get you.” 

“And we’re going to get the money,” and Phil 
Reed waved the second torch. 

“Won’t this frighten away the bears?” asked 
Lod. 

“’Course it will,” claimed Phil; “there won’t 
be a bear on this island for six months.” 

“Then Mr. Green will be disappointed,” were 
the words of young Savage, “for you remember 
that he’s coming back in winter to hunt.” 

“I don’t care about his hunting ; but, I bet you 
my knife, I don’t want to see any more bears.” 

# Over their heads the boys waved the flaming 
signals; and while they sent out the messages of 
night, they wondered and wondered what would 
be the effect of their efforts to help their devoted 
friend. Would Mr. Green see the lights? Would 
he interpret the signals? what would he think of 
the contradictory messages? would ’Gator Pete 
be frightened? 

Five, ten, fifteen, twenty minutes passed by, 
and still the fire-brands were waving and waving 
from the bay tree. Then, almost at the same 
instant the two torches were consumed, and a 
sudden darkness came over the island. 


CHAPTER XXII 

CHIEF CRIPPLE-FOOT 

O ld Chief Cripple-Foot had never left the 
Everglades. Lame from his birth, he had 
lived his life within the narrow limits of a few 
hummocks. In vain did his fellow tribesmen tell 
him of the tens of thousands of pale faces who 
dwelt on broad lands where there was neither 
water nor saw grass nor mangrove bushes. He 
could not understand their accounts of houses 
and ships; to him there was no other world but 
the Everglades. Some day he would gather his 
braves around him and kill the few white men 
who ventured within his domains. His subjects, 
scarcely forty in all, had no respect for the dot- 
ing chief, and only tolerated him in their midst 
owing to the traditions of the tribe. 

One night Cripple-Foot sat smoking in front of 
his tent, when suddenly there appeared in the 
horizon flaming signals. At last the time had 
come for war upon the white men, and the fallen 
braves of the Seminoles were calling the war- 
riors to arms. Such was the chief’s interpreta- 
tion of the signals from Lookout Island. Unfortu- 
nately, there were only a few squaws in the camp, 
16 ; 


162 CHIEF CRIPPLE-FOOT 

and a boy of seventeen, who bore the vulgar name 
of Tom. 

“Go ! go !” said the chief to the single warrior, 
“go, call the Seminoles! the spirits of the dead 
are calling us to fight! go! go!” 

“Me white men’s friend, old Chief,” replied the 
young brave. 

“Go ! go ! the spirits of the Seminoles are call- 
ing.” 

“Go where?” asked Tom, in a way that showed 
his contempt for the doting Chief. 

“To call the braves — to call the fighting Semin- 
oles.” 

“Me white men’s friend; white men good to 
Tom.” 

“Coward! coward!” cried the angered chief. 
“These long years I’ve waited. The sleeping 
Seminoles are calling ; we’ll drive the white men 
from the sacred Everglades.” 

“You’ve got only a dozen men,” said the mat- 
ter-of-fact Tom. 

“Liar! liar!” cried the chief, “thousands! 
thousands ! The Seminoles outnumber the leaves 
on the live oak trees.” 

“You mean the white men are like the leaves. 
I’ve seen ’em, old Chief. They good to Indian 
Tom.” 

“Traitor! coward!” 

“No! no! white men give Indian Tom big 
money, big heap tobacco.” 

“Liar ! traitor ! coward ! go ! go !” 

And now the old squaws gathered around the 
young Indian and besought him to go as the 


CHIEF CRIPPLE-FOOT 1G3 

Chief desired. They brought him a generous 
supply of dried beans and fish, put on him a 
faded costume of red, and placed in his hands a 
red flag, one treasured by the tribe as having- 
been carried in battle by the famous Osceola. 

Old Cripple-Foot smiled and bowed when he 
beheld the young warrior bedecked and ready to 
bear the message of war to the braves. “Go ! go ! 
my son, and may the help of the Great Spirit be 
with thee!” 

Curious to know the meaning of the signals and 
anxious to please the Chief, Tom was soon in his 
long canoe. He had been told to visit every hum- 
mock and call the braves to arms under old Crip- 
ple-Foot; but he had no intention of seeking to 
stir the Indians to war, for, having visited the 
cities along the eastern coast of Florida, he knew 
how hopeless would be a struggle with the white 
men. Moreover, he had been treated kindly by 
the directors at a fruit station where he had 
-worked. He would, therefore, injure no one; but 
would find the hummock from which the signals 
came. 

He had gone but a short distance when the 
flaming signs disappeared. Rut the young Indian 
had at a glance taken in the direction. Many a 
time had he poled his canoe through the leads 
with only the lights in the heavens to guide him. 

Later, the signal fires again burned before him. 
Again they flared and were extinguished ; but on 
and on in the silence of the night went the 
young Seminole. 

In the meanwhile, the boys were all serious 


164 


CHIEF CRIPPLE-FOOT 


about the signals which they were sending from 
the top of the bay tree. Mr. Green read them, 
but could find no meaning in the signaling. 

’Gator Pete saw them and concluded that the 
Indians were gathering in battle to kill all 
intruders of the Everglades. Poor Pedro Blanco 
was affrighted by them, and resolved at the 
break of day to leave the haunted place into which 
his wife had sent him. 

But no other was as frightened as was Bob Wil- 
kins. Bob Wilkins, twenty-five years old, was a 
typical Cracker, long-necked, lank and slow ; but 
few people in Florida had more ambition to make 
money. After saving a thousand dollars he had 
rented a small farm and raised early cabbage, 
thereby more than doubling his fortune. He 
planted celery for the New York market and 
again doubled his wealth. He planted strawber- 
ries and met with the same success. Then he had 
dreams of greater things — of pineapples and cit- 
ron groves. 

He had read of the Government work in drain- 
ing the Everglades and was convinced that here 
was his opportunity for untold wealth. Distrust- 
ing every one, he slipped away to the Everglades 
with the determination of guarding his secret 
until he was the owner of a vast tract of muck 
land. 

Bob Wilkins needed no protection against 
Florida heat or Florida rains, for he would work 
at noon in the blistering sun or would sing and 
whistle when the semi-tropical floods poured 
down upon him. With a small rifle for shooting 


CHIEF CRIPPLE-FOOT 


165 


turtles, a fishing line, and some meal and dried 
fruits, he could live for days in the tortuous leads 
of the Everglades, where even an Indian would 
have found existence all but impossible. 

Bob Wilkins had now been for a week on his 
exploring trip in the Everglades. As his rifle 
made but little noise and as he always cooked 
his meals during the day and had no light at 
night, his presence had not become known to the 
scattered Seminole groups. The adventurer 
was slowly working his way toward Lookout 
Island, which he had seen at a distance and 
around which, he judged, there was a promise of 
good soil. 

But one day he heard shots from the large 
hummock, an evident proof it was the camping 
place for Seminole Indians. At regular inter- 
vals he listened to the reports of fire-arms, and 
in each shot he went farther and farther from 
the dreaded place. Had Clifford turned his glass 
in that direction, he would no doubt have picked 
up the canoe of the adventurer. 

Night came on and found Bob Wilkins re- 
treating from the large island, inhabited, as he 
thought, by numerous Seminoles. For the first 
time during his trip he was frightened when 
darkness settled down over the water and the 
hummocks. Then, to his dismay, he saw the 
flaming signals from the bay tree. 

War! war! and the Seminoles would no doubt 
murder every white man who fell into their 
hands ! 

Bob Wilkins slept little that night; and be- 


160 


CHIEF CRIPPLE-FOOT 


fore the traces of the morning light were visible 
he was poling his canoe for the mainland. 

Rounding a small hummock, he stood face to 
face with a real Indian, dressed in a red, gro- 
tesque costume, and bearing on the prow of his 
canoe a red flag. All the fears of the white man 
were confirmed — the Indians were on the war- 
path, and Bob Wilkins was before a Seminole 
Brave. 

Indian Tom saw at a glance that the white 
man was frightened. Half in fear and half in 
play he shouted, “Hands up!” a term which he 
had learned when working in Tampa. 

Up into the air went the long arms of Bob 
"Wilkins. 

“The Seminoles are at war,” cried the Brave. 
“See, see the flag of Osceola!” 

Then the captor became magnanimous. He 
told of his stay among the white men at Tampa 
and his generous treatment by those for whom 
he worked. He would be generous in return, he 
would release his prisoner and give to him a 
passport— a white feather tied with a red rib- 
bon. If the white man had tobacco to bestow 
in return for such generosity, the Indian brave 
was ready to accept it. 

Bob Wilkins did have an extra supply of to- 
bacco and an extra pipe; both of which he be- 
stowed upon the Indian. 

“Take the feather,” replied Indian Tom. with 
all the dignity of old Cripple-Foot, “take the 
feather, the feather with red ribbon, and if Semi- 
nole warriors surround you, you are safe.” 


CHIEF CRIPPLE-FOOT 


167 


After some further parleying, and words of 
thanks on the part of Bob Wilkins, the white 
man and Indian parted. 

Bob Wilkins had but one desire, to escape 
alive from the scene of war. All day long as 
he poled his canoe he had the feather ready to 
hold aloft if he encountered any of the Semi- 
nole braves., 


CHAPTER XXIII 

UNEXPECTED VISITORS 


‘1 OTS of fun !” remarked Lod, as the boys slid 

i— 4 down the tree after waving the last fire- 
brands at eleven o’clock. 

“I’m sleepy,” yawned Phil. 

“Reck’n I am, too; but Clif has promised to 
do the first watching.” 

“Until one o’clock, then one of you will take 
two hours. But see — boys — see!” 

“A bear !” mumbled Phil. 

“T-h-r-e-e of — ’e-m,” stammered Lod. 

Three bears there were on the opposite side 
of the fire, which was burning low. Three bears 
—a large bear and on each side a little bear. 
These little bears had heard all about the won- 
derful supply of fish which was kept for them 
on this very island, and now they were coming: 
for their feast. 

Up on its hind legs stood the big bear; and up 
on their hind legs stood the little bears. 

Lod was on one side of Clifford and Phil on 
the other. There they stood — the boys looking 
at the bears and the bears looking at the boys. 
Neither party seemed ready to make a move. 

“What’ll we do?” whispered Clifford. 

“Yell !” suggested Phil. 

168 


UNEXPECTED VISITORS 


169 


“Mr. Green told us not to kill ’em.” 

“We haven’t got the pistol.” 

“Think they’ll run if we yell?” 

“Hope so.” 

“Gee! if we only kept our fire-brands burn- 
ing.” 

“Can’t we light them and then run at the 
bears?” asked Clifford. 

“Suppose they don’t run?” 

“But, I believe they will; bears don’t like 
fire.” 

“They seem to like this camp-fire ; or they smelt 
our food or were looking for the fish pond,” 
explained Phil. 

“Then, let’s try the yelling. Lod, what do 
you say?” 

“Let’s go back and climb the bay tree,” was 
the answer. 

“Then the bears’ll get our fish.” 

“Let’s get in the tree and then yell,” said Lod. 

“Good,” replied Clifford, “let’s climb a tree; 
but we don’t have to get up in the bay tree, for 
it’s too far away. This one will do,” and he 
pointed to a magnolia whose branches nearly 
touched the ground. 

Up into the tree the boys scampered. “Now, 
boys, all together; yell like the dickens!” were 
the words of command from Clifford. Such yell- 
ing and shouting had never before broken the 
silence of the Everglades. 

But the bears! the big bear got down on all 
fours and slowly moved toward the fire, followed 
by the two cubs. 

“Coming after us !” whispered Lod. 


170 


UNEXPECTED VISITORS 


“Think we’re calling them,” said Clifford. 

“Reck’n I’m going higher,” and Lod began to 
climb toward the upper branches of the mag- 
nolia. 

Clifford followed slowly. “Can bears climb 
trees?” he asked of Phil. 

Though naturally not braver than his com- 
panions, Phil Reed concluded that the intruders 
were harmless. “They won’t hurt us; they 
haven’t enough sense to run.” His words seemed 
to carry conviction. 

The boys sat in their places waiting to see 
what would happen. The three bears came on 
slowly toward the fire. Just as they reached 
the smoldering pile, a log fell, scattering sparks 
and starting a sudden blaze. Off scampered the 
two little bears at full speed, followed by their 
elder. The boys heard the animals splash in the 
water; then cautiously they crept to the ground. 

It wat then agreed that two would watch while 
one took a rest. It fell to Lod to seek his cot; 
but with all the excitement of the past days sleep 
refused to come. Neither could the two other 
boys enjoy even a few minutes of repose. Morn- 
ing found them gathered around the camp-fire ex- 
hausted but unable to sleep. Then one by one 
they fell back upon the ground and were lost 
m deepest slumber. 

Clifford awoke, and on examining his watch 
round that it was about a quarter to ten. Seiz- 
ing the glasses and revolver and rushing to the 
tree, he readily picked up the Uttle Tarpon. 
To his surprise, Mr. Green appeared to be closer 
to Lookout Island than he was at the end of the 


UNEXPECTED VISITORS 


1T1 


previous day. He could, however, get no glimpse 
of the two canoes, which he had seen late on the 
day previous. Then he turned the glass toward 
the other side and at once spied another canoe. 
The hour for the signals was close at hand. 
What would he do? Acting quickly, he signaled 
that there was a canoe to Mr. Green’s left; even 
though he knew that this contradicted the in- 
formation given by the fire-brands during the 
night. 

Returning to his companions he tried in vain 
to arouse them from their sleep. Then he 
dragged each of them to a cot within the tent in 
order to protect them from the rays of the sun. 
Sitting at the foot of a cot he unconsciously 
dropped back upon the ground and himself was 
in the land of slumbers. 

Phil Reed was the first to awake. Walking 
out into the open it took him some time to 
realize that it was past noon. His first thought 
was of the fish pond, which on examination 
proved to be uninvaded by the bears. Then he 
aroused his two companions. 

“Ugh ! ugh !” muttered Lod, as he felt a shoe 
digging into his side ; “reck’n I’m sleepy.” 

“Sleepy ! why, man, it's time to go to bed !” 

“What’s that?” 

“It’s getting late; ’bout time to go to bed!” 

*“Bet you my knife — ” 

“Bet nothing ! get up and let’s have something 
to eat.” Lod felt himself dragged from the cot ; 
and then his face was drenched with water. Fi- 
nally he was fully awake. “How long have we 
fellows slept?” he asked. 


172 UNEXPECTED VISITORS 

“All day, and Mr. Green hasn’t got a signal 
from us.” 

“He did get a signal,” spoke out Clifford as 
he sat up in his cot. “I sent him a signal at ten 
o’clock. You fellows were sound asleep. I 
couldn’t wake you, and before I knew — well — 
I just fell asleep too. But hungry — say, fellows, 
I could swallow a fish alive.” 

“You don’t need to swallow it alive, I’ll have 
three big ones cooked in three shakes of a sheep’s 
tail,” and Phil was off to the pond to get a sup- 
ply for the meal. 

“What’ll we do next?” asked Pliil, when the 
meal was finished. 

“No use of signaling,” replied Clifford, “we 
don’t know where Mr. Green is, and we don’t 
know where the other canoes are. They are all 
mixed up by this time.” 

“We’ve got one more night before we start for 
the cypress swamp,” said Phil. 

“Do you think those bears will come again?” 
asked Clifford. 

“ ’Course they will.” 

“Then we’ll have to watch.” 

“Yes, but we know that the bears won’t hurt 
us, so there’s no use of being afraid. I wonder 
whether Mr. Green has caught ’Gator Pete?” 

“Bet my knife he has,” broke in Lod. 

“And the gold, too?” came the question from 
Clifford. 

“I reck’n so.” 

“Then let us enjoy ourselves and not worry 
about the bears or the gold,” said Clifford 
Savage. 


CHAPTER XXIV 
DOUBLE SIGNALS 

’ ator Pete was tired and hungry, and, above 
all, he was frightened. Those flaming sig- 
nals from the skies struck terror into his very 
soul. Such waving brands could only be the 
work of Indians bent on killing the white man. 
Like many other ignorant men he thought that 
the Everglades were inhabited by thousands of 
hostile Indians, ready at the least provocation to 
rise up and butcher all in sight. Then, the re- 
peated firing of Mr. Green’s gun, during the 
greater part of the previous day, only tended 
to confirm his conclusions. To escape was now 
his only thought! 

With the coming of day he started for the 
cypress swamp, only hoping that he would not 
be captured by Mark Green. Light had scarcely 
come over the waters when a canoe was visible. 
More than this, it was bearing down upon him ! 
Alas! He was being pursued by the warring 
Seminoles! Only at times could he catch sight 
of the canoe and he could see but one man pol- 
ing the craft; but his imagination pictured a 
dozen or more Indians ready to leap up and 
scalp him. On he poled his clumsy canoe and on 
173 


174 


DOUBLE SIGNALS 


the enemy came, ever, ever gaining upon him. 
As the saw grass was unusually high and hum- 
mocks were plentiful, it was impossible to get 
more than a passing glance at the oncoming 
craft. 

Noon came, with ’Gator Pete losing in the 
race; his strength, too, was all but exhausted. 
The enemy’s canoe was now within gunshot. He 
would sell his life as dearly as possible! Pick- 
ing up the rifle he waited in silence for the pur- 
suing canoe to appear. There, there it was ! He 
fired at the only visible occupant; but just as 
he did so he recognized that his pursuer was a 
w T hite man. 

He saw the man fall to one side. Waiting 
some time and convinced that he had but one 
enemy, who was now either dead or wounded, he 
slowly poled his own craft to the place. There 
in the bottom of the canoe was Pedro Blanco, 
unconscious, with the blood flowing freely 
from his side. 

Pulling aside the rough shirt of the wounded 
man, he saw that the ball had cut through the 
right shoulder. Pedro opened his eyes and in 
a few words explained that he was only seeking 
protection. He begged Pete not to kill him. So 
often had the poor Spaniard helped the man 
that ’Gator had not the heart to injure Pedro 
further or to leave him in his present condition. 

It was necessary, however, to abandon one of 
the canoes. Lifting the wounded man and plac- 
ing him in his own canoe, ’Gator Pete was about 
to start, when Pedro glared at the box. “Caja 


DOUBLE SIGNALS 175 

de suerte! Oh, Juana! Juana! caja, caja de 
suerte l” muttered he. 

“What’s that?” came the rough words of the 
thief. “I found that box! It’s mine.” 

“No! no! Juana’s! Juana’s!” 

“Mean to say it ain’t mine?” 

“Good luck box! caja de suerte! mine Ju- 
ana’s !” 

“Well! we’ll settle that later; take a rest now, 
an’ lay still in de bottom of de canoe.” With a 
few more exclamations about Juana and the 
good luck box, poor Pedro lay quietly in the 
canoe, with only an occasional moan to indicate 
that he was not asleep. 

’Gator Pete knew well that his victim was help- 
less. It was only a question of escaping with 
the treasure, without at the same time leaving 
the poor Spaniard to die of his wounds and of 
hunger. 

All that day and the next, he rowed and finally 
at nightfall he reached the edge of the Ever- 
glades near the source of Shark River. The two 
men had sufficient provisions. 

Pedro fell asleep early in the evening, and 
Pete, while sitting on the edge of his canoe saw 
at some distance down the river the flickering 
of a camp-fire. Creeping close to the place, he 
recognized the figure of Tom Reed. Long he sat 
in the darkness watching ihe man, and at the 
same time devising some plan of leaving the 
wounded Pedro with the newcomer. Without 
letting Thomas Reed know of his presence, he 
finally crept away to his own camping place. 


176 


DOUBLE SIGNALS 


Early on the following morning, while Pedro 
was still asleep, ’Gator Pete stepped into his 
canoe and was soon nearing the camp of Thomas 
Keed. This time the box was carefully cov- 
ered with an old coat. “Halloo! halloo!” he 
cried, keeping at some little distance from the 
shore. 

“Halloo!” came back the response, as the big 
man sat up. “You’re up early !” 

“Hurryin’ ter git help. Why, dat you, Tom 
Reed?” 

“Myself, and I didn’t calculate on meeting 
Pete here? What’s happened?” 

“Pedro Blanco has done gone an’ shoot him- 
self.” 

“Accident?” 

“Think so.” 

“Very serious?” 

“Don’t know ; but you oughter go right up der 
an’ help ’im. I’m going fer help.” 

“What’s he doing out here?” 

“Don’t know.” 

“ Where’ ve you been?” 

“Just up lookin’ fer ’gaters.” 

“Where are you going for help?” 

“Ter tell his ole wom’n furst.” 

“And you left the wounded man alone?” 

“Had ter; had ter do it,” and as he spoke 
’Gator Pete was getting farther and farther from 
the big man, whom he feared. 

“Row back here a minute, and tell me where I 
will find Pedro.” 

“Up de riva.” 


DOUBLE SIGNALS 177 

“Up the nothing! just where? I may miss 
him.” 

“Up de riva; ter de right,” shouted back Pete, 
whose canoe was fast drifting away. 

“How far up?” 

“Ter de ’Glades.” 

“Right or left as you go up?” 

“Left,” and Mr. Reed scarcely caught the 
words. “He’s a fool, and always was one,” mut- 
tered the man to himself. 

Thomas Reed’s motor boat soon brought him 
to the place where poor Pedro was lying. He 
had scarcely bent over the sufferer when he heard 
the words : “Caja de suerte! caja! good luck box !” 
He understood from the broken sentences of the 
Spaniard that ’Gator Pete had in his possession 
the precious box. 

Mr. Reed now recalled that ’Gator Pete had 
kept at a distance and that he seemed anxious 
to escape. He could only have gotten the box 
by following the campers far into the Everglades. 
Moreover, he must have stolen it from Mark 
Green, and must have had some motive for the 
theft. How could he have succeeded in steal- 
ing a box which Mr. Green had given his word 
of honor that he would return to the owners? 
What could be the value of the box to Pete? 
Had he used violence in securing it? Were any 
of the boys injured? Was Mr. Green himself 
wounded? He must learn the truth from ’Gator 
Pete. 

“Are you suffering much?” he asked of the 
Spaniard. 


178 


DOUBLE SIGNALS 


The man shook his head. 

“Will you come with me? We must follow 
Pete and get that box. Will you come?” 

Pedro smiled and bowed assent. 

As he lifted the wounded man into his canoe, 
Thomas Reed realized that he was dealing with 
one who needed immediate attention. 

In a few minutes the motor-boat was churning 
its way down the current of Shark River. Some 
half-submerged hyacinth choked the propeller. 
Two hours were lost. Noon found the pursuers 
at the mouth of the stream with hundreds of di- 
verging channels before them. While Mr. Reed 
deliberated what action to take, a small canoe 
stole noiselessly from among a patch of man- 
grove and pond lilies. 

Thomas Reed was unarmed ; still he would be 
bold. “Ha — ” he had not finished the word halt, 
when he recognized the little jeweler from 
Tampa, Senor Lopez. 

“Mr. Lopez,” he cried, “did you see another 
canoe?” 

“Saw no one. I was frightened by the soli- 
tude of this place.” 

“Didn’t see a ragged sort of a fellow?” 

“No one, Mr. Reed.” 

Bringing his motor-boat close to the jeweler, 
Mr. Reed quickly rehearsed for him the incidents 
of the morning and his fears for the safety not 
only of the box but also for the campers. He 
learned, too, that Mr. Lopez was with a fishing 
party on a hummock about a mile away. 

“I have it,” said the big man, “you take this 
wounded fellow to your camp, and I’ll try to 


DOUBLE SIGNALS 


179 


follow the thief. It’s only a guess which chan- 
nel to take; but Til follow what I think is the 
shortest.” 

“Just thought of it,” cried out the little jew- 
eler with joy, “one of the fishermen is a physi- 
cian. He’s out on his vacation.” 

“That’s lucky, he may be the means of saving 
Pedro’s life. Pedro, do you understand? This 
man is a friend of mine. He is the man who 
found out that your ore was gold. He has a 
friend fishing with him — a doctor. Do you un- 
derstand? a doctor to take care of you and dress 
your wounds?” 

Pedro was weak, very weak ; but he smiled as- 
sent, and was lifted into the canoe of the jew- 
eler. 

“You haven’t a revolver, Mr. Lopez?” asked 
Thomas Reed. 

“That I have, an automatic.” 

“How fortunate; will you let me take it?” 

“It’s yours. I don’t know why I brought it. 
I never shot one in my life,” and Senor Lopez 
handed it to Mr. Reed. 

“Really fortunate,” repeated the man; “I’m 
not much of a shot. But if I meet that ’Gator, 
I’ll make him dance in his canoe. He’s got a 
rifle ; I saw it. But I can manceuver around with 
this motor-boat, and if I see him, I’ll soon have 
him at a disadvantage.” 

They shook hands. Senor Lopez rowed away 
with Pedro to the fishing camp, and Thomas 
Reed turned his boat towards the channel, which 
lead through Ten Thousand Islands out to the 
Gulf. 


CHAPTER XXV 

INDIAN TOM AND THE LOST TRAIL 

As the signals from the island were contradic- 
tory, Mark Green decided to investigate con- 
ditions for himself. Landing on a rather large 
hummock, covered with magnolias, and climb- 
ing the tallest of the trees, with his glass he 
sought to pick up the canoe of ’Gator Pete. 
Could it be possible? There to the right and 
within two miles of him was the canoe. Evi- 
dently, the fugitive had lost his course, for he 
was headed directly for Lookout Island. 

Could ’Gator Pete have changed his course in- 
tentionally? Had he information that Mark 
Green was following him and that the boys had 
been left alone? Did he intend to revisit the 
island and, after obtaining a new supply of pro- 
visions, to cross the Everglades to the eastern 
coast of Florida? Such were the thoughts which 
crowded to the mind of the pursuer. His course 
was no longer doubtful; he would follow in the 
wake of the thief and overtake him just as he 
was about to land. 

Unconscious of the fact that he was being 
pursued, Indian Tom poled his dugout through 
the tall saw grass, pausing only occasionally 
180 


INDIAN TOM AND THE LOST TRAIL 181 


to choose a more open lead or to quench his 
thirst. 

Late in the afternoon, Mark Green climbed 
another tree to get his bearings. Then, he dis- 
covered that he had been following an Indian. 
What would he do? There was now no chance 
of finding or overtaking Pete. Should he fol- 
low the Indian? What could be the purpose 
of the red man in visiting the island? Probably 
he was one of the harmless kind; possibly he 
was crossing the ’Glades, knowing nothing of 
the presence of the campers. Still, Mark Green 
felt that he could take no chances. It was his 
duty to reach the island and if possible before 
the arrival of the Seminole. 

Luckily, Mr. Green found a long “lead” where 
he could use the motor. This enabled him to 
make a detour around the Indian and to put 
himself between the Seminole and the Island. 
It was also fortunate that Tom, after rowing 
the greater part of the previous night, was too 
tired to repeat the effort; otherwise, he would 
have passed the white man, who was unable to 
find his way in the darkness. 

In the meanwhile, Clifford mounted the bay 
tree to take a last look over the water. 

“Hey ! boys !” he cried, “two canoes again !” 

Up the tree scrambled Lod and Phil. “Sure 
there’re two?” asked the latter. 

“Dead certain ! you can see ’em with the naked 
eye.” 

“Where?” 

“Over there to the right.” 


182 INDIAN TOM AND THE LOST TRAIL 

“I see one,” broke in Lod and he pointed to- 
wards a large hummock. 

“Golly, boys! it’s— it’s— sure as I’m living, it’s 
—Mr. Green,” cried out Clifford, who had been 
scanning the ’Glades with his glass. 

“Has he caught ’Gator Pete?” asked Lod 

“Seems so.” 

“Wonder how?” 

“Just caught up with him ; you see, he had the 
motor,” explained Phil. 

“They’re talking, and— say, boys! It’s— an 
Indian, he’s talking to,” said Clifford. 

“Then he hasn’t caught ’Gator,” added Lod. 

Looks that way now. Here, you trv your 
luck,” and Clifford handed the glass to Lod. 

“I reck’n it’s an Indian, all right,” said the 
lad a few seconds after he had brought the glass 
to his eyes. “You try,” and he handed the in- 
strument to Phil. 

ri ght, were the words of young Reed, 
bay, boys, this thing is all mixed up; something 
new happening every day and we don’t know 
what’s next.” 

‘‘ G °’ 8®* the revolver and fire a salute,” sug- 
gested Clifford. g 

Acting on the words, Phil slid down the tree 
and was soon back with the Colt pistol “Watch 

three ” hen 1 flre ” he Said - “ Now > one, two, 

“He heard it; I could see him look this way ” 
said Clifford. “Fire again. There! he’s net- 
ting out his automatic. Listen ! I saw the flash 
but couldn’t hear the report.” 


INDIAN TOM AND THE LOST TRAIL 183 


Lod asked to take the glass, and, after some 
observation, said : “Mr. Green’s giving him some- 
thing; looks like something to eat. Mr. Green’s 
coming this way and the Indian is turning his 
canoe in the other direction. They’re rowing 
away from each other — Mr. Green is making for 
the island.” 

For hours the boys remained in the bay tree 
exchanging signals with their leader. Then they 
leaped to the ground and ran to meet him. 

“We saw three canoes,” called out Clifford. 

“And three bears,” added Lod. 

Then they spoke of canoes and bears and sig- 
nals, and signals and bears and canoes, until the 
leader cried out for silence, and attempted to get 
a connected recital from Clifford. 

Mr. Green was puzzled about the two canoes 
seen on the second day to his right. Neither of 
them could possibly have been the canoe of the 
Indian, which was to his left on the morning 
of the third day. Long did he laugh about the 
two little bears which were frightened by the 
sudden flame. 

“Boys,” said he, “I’ve made two agreements 
with that Indian whom I met. He is a rather 
good fellow, so it seemed to me. He’s to make 
for the mouth of Shark River and stop ’Gator 
Pete if the latter comes that way. I told him 
not to hurt the ’Gator, but to get his pole or 
oars or in some other way to hold him there 
until we come, and if he could not hold him, 
to follow after him. I sent him on ahead, as 
he knows the way and can pole his canoe even 


184 INDIAN TOM AND THE LOST TRAIL 

during the night. Then he’s to cultivate my 
little garden here so as to keep up my c laim 
Well, Lod,” he continued, turning to the boy, 
“you saw the bears.” 

“I reck’n I did, sir.” 

“And you were scared?” 

“ ’Course! there were three of ’em!” 

“Rut the two little ones didn’t count.” 

“Yes, they did ; they looked just as dangerous 
as the big one.” 

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t attempt to kill one, 
for, if you had, there would have been a real 
danger. If a cub is wounded, then look out; 
for the old mother bear gets frantic. Nothing 
will stop her, as long as she has any life in 
her. I’m glad that the little fellows were so 
easily frightened.” 

The leader talked with the boys until dark- 
ness came on, then he sent them to rest, for 
they would be up early in the morning to be- 
gin the trip home. Going down to the fish pond 
to catch a few mullets for broiling, he heard 
splash after splash in the mangrove bushes. The 
visiting bears had returned for a meal For 
some time he watched them, then, seizing a fire- 
brand, he rushed at the intruders. Away they 
went and were heard no more. 

Knowing that the bears would return after 
a few days, and, anxious to keep them in the 
neighborhood for his intended hunt during the 
coming winter, the leader left a plentiful sup- 
ply of fish in the pond. 1 

He did not awake the boys to tell them of 


INDIAN TOM AND THE LOST TRAIL 185 


the return of the bears, for he knew that the 
excitement would rob them of the rest which 
they needed for the return voyage. 

When the lads awoke on the following morn- 
ing, they found breakfast ready and most of 
the camping outfit in the canoes. It was not 
without a feeling of regret that the boys pre- 
pared to leave the island which had become a 
second home to them. The long expected expedi- 
tion was about to end. Their dreams had been 
more than realized. The box of gold had been 
found and lost; bears had come and gone! All 
that remained was the long trip homeward with 
the possible chance of capturing the thief and 
dividing the treasure. 

“Good-by! Lookout Island!” cried out Phil 
as he stepped into the Raud. 

“Good-by, Mr. Bay Tree,” said Clifford. 

“Good-by, big bear and little bears,” added 
Lod. 

“We’ll come again, boys,” put in the leader, 
“we’ll come again before you boys are grown 
men, and we won’t come in canoes. At least, 
we won’t come all the way in canoes. We’ll mo- 
tor a part of the way or perhaps take the train. 
Remember what I told you about the draining 
and the road making. But I am glad you en- 
joyed the trip and I am glad that good luck 
brought me back to take you home. I felt sorry 
to leave you and I am glad I am back even if 
we do lose the box and the gold.” 

With the Raud in tow the Little Tarpon swung 
out from the shore. 


CHAPTER XXVI 

MR. GREEN ATTACKS THE ENEMY 

I ookout Island was vanishing — slowly vanish- 
-J ing. At times it would disappear behind a 
hummock, and then in the open leads would 
stand out in bold contrast to the lower growth 
of the red mangrove. But it was the bay tree 
which remained the center of the boys’ interest 
and the subject of the boys’ conversation. From 
it they had gazed out over the Everglades ! from 
it they had signaled by day and night! It, too 
was now slowly receding; its branches were a 
part of the pines and magnolias; its glossy 
foliage more and more blended with the cloud 
drifts. 

The afternoon of the day of the departure of 
Mr. Green and the boys was wearing away, while 
paddle and motor carried the two canoes to- 
ward the source of Shark River. 

* s no ha™ in taking a survey of the 
Glades before it’s dark , 57 said the leader. He 
stopped the motor, took his spy-glass, and 
stepped out on a hummock on which was a 
growth of magnolias. 

Climbing the tree he searched far and wide 
for a canoe, while the boys waited below. 

186 


MR. GREEN ATTACKS THE ENEMY 187 

“See anything?” cried out Lod. 

Mark Green waved his hand in indication of 
silence. 

“See any—?” but Clif’s hand was over the 
boy’s mouth. 

“Don’t you understand?” remonstrated he, 
“some one must be near.” 

“I didn’t see him making any signs,” whis- 
pered Lod. “What’s he looking at?” 

“Don’t know; but some one must be near.” 

The boys waited anxiously until the leader 
came down from the magnolia. “There’s a canoe 
over there, not half a mile away,” said he. “You 
boys jump into the Rand. I’m going over and 
find out who the person is. Is the pistol loaded, 
Phil?” 

“Yes, sir, six cartridges in it.” 

“There may not be any danger, but I must be 
prepared. Don’t you boys get scared. I’ll be 
back in half an hour. There’s some dry ground 
on this hummock and maybe we’ll stay here for 
the night.” 

“Let’s say a prayer for Mr. Green,” said Lod, 
when the leader was only a short distance away. 
Acting on the suggestion, the boys bared their 
heads and prayed. Then they waited — waited 
in silence, expecting to hear the report of Mr. 
Green’s pistol and then to see the leader re- 
turn with ’Gator Pete as a captive. 

The man had in no way indicated to them 
what was his opinion in regard to the occupant 
of the canoe; still, they took it for granted that 
it was ’Gator Pete. 


188 MR. GREEN ATTACKS THE ENEMY 


“Suppose he kills Mr. Green !” whispered Lod, 
no longer able to suppress his fears. 

“Mr. Green’s the best shot,” claimed Clif. 

“And the quickest, too,” asserted Phil. 

“Yes, but ’Gator has the rifle,” argued Lod. 

“But he don’t know Mr. Green’s coming.” 

“He’ll hear the motor, won’t he?” asked Clif. 

“Mr. Green’ll stop the motor when he’s near 
’Gator,” said Phil. 

“Then, he’ll have a hard time in overtaking 
the canoe.” 

“Maybe,” acknowledged Phil Reed, “but you 
remember, boys, what Mr. Green once said about 
’Gator Pete. ’Gator Pete’s a coward, and he 
hasn’t much sense. Mr. Green’ll be too smart 
for him.” 

“I’ve got it,” interrupted Clif ; “why didn’t we 
think of it before?” 

“Got what?” the others wished to know. 

“Why, here’s the glass. I’ll just climb the 
magnolia and see what’s going on. Get close to 
the tree, and I’ll yell down to you; but I won’t 
make much noise.” 

Up the tree climbed Clifford Savage. 

“See anything?” called out Lod, in a smoth- 
ered voice. 

“See Mr. Green— and— say, boys, the other 
canoe is right in front of him— and the fellow 
is rowing like the dickens. — Mr. Green’s in — in 
a wide lead and — and’s dropping his oars and us- 
ing the motor.” 

“Then ’Gator Pete will hear him and— and I 


MR. GREEN ATTACKS THE ENEMY 189 


hope he don’t shoot him with the rifle,” said Phil 
to Lod. 

“Hope he don’t. I’m praying for him.” 

“And ain’t you praying to get the box, too?” 

“Reck’n I am ; been praying for the box right 
along.” 

“Lod, I believe we’re going to get that box 
again.” 

“How?” 

“Don’t know ; but I just believe it.” 

“Mr. Green’s getting real close,” came the in- 
formation from above — “and the other canoe’s 
going behind a hummock — Mr. Green’s using the 
paddle — say, he’s getting close; and ’Gator Pete’s 
just sitting there and waiting for him.” 

“ ’Gator Pete’s fooling him,” sighed Lod. “I 
reck’n he’ll kill Mr. Green.” 

“Don’t cry over it!” protested Phil. “Mr. 
Green’s too sharp for ’Gator Pete — you just bet 
he’s too sharp.” 

“But, ’Gator’ll be waiting for him, and have 
his gun ready,” 

“Mr. Green’ll be ready, too.” 

“Boys, Mr. Green’s — s — turn — ing the hum — 
mock and — ’Gator Pete’s holding up his hands,” 
cried out Clifford Savage. 

“Got him !” yelled Phil. 

“And my gold! the box! the gold!” shouted 
Lod, and he danced around the magnolia. 

“What’s Mr. Green doing with him?” asked 
Phil. 

“Just talking,” came the answer from the 


190 MR. GREEN ATTACKS THE ENEMY 

tree, “just talking; but ’Gator’s put down his 
hands.” 

“Is he giving Mr. Green the box?” Lod wanted 
to know. 

“Not yet; they're still talking." 

“Has 'Gator got his rifle?" 

“Don't see it." 

“And you don't see the box either?" 

“No, the grass is so high that I can only see 
the men and the tops of the canoes." 

“I reck'n Mr. Green will get the box," asserted 
Lod. 

( VS e ain't sure it s 'Gator Pete, yet," asserted 
Phil. 

“I reck'n we ain't." In the excitement the 
boys had concluded with but little evidence that 
Mr. Green was in pursuit of the thief. 

For some time the boys conjectured, and Mr 
Green conversed with the man whom he had 
overtaken. 

“Say — boys, the man's going and — Mr. 
Green's coming this way," called out Clif. 

“Letting Pete go with the gold and the box!" 
protested Lod. 

“It ain't Pete, 'course it ain't," replied Phil. 
“Then who is it?" 

“Don’t know, but it ain’t Pete. Do you think 
Mr. Green’d let him go? He had the drop on 
the man — do you think he’d let him go — not Mr 
Green !" 

“Who could it be? I reck’n I’d like to know.” 
“Lots of people come into the ’Glades,” said 

Pnil 7 


MR. GREEN ATTACKS THE ENEMY 191 


All excited, the lads awaited the return of 
the leader. 

“Sorry to disappoint you,” said Mr. Green, 
as he came up to the canoe ; “the man’s name is 
Bob Wilkins. He didn’t see me until I was 
right on him; then he held up a white feather 
with a red ribbon tied to it. Some Indian told 
him that the Seminoles were at war and that 
this white feather would protect his life. Say, 
boys, your signals frightened him; and then In- 
dian Tom told him the story about the war, to 
get some tobacco.” 

“We thought it was ’Gator Pete,” replied Phil. 

“And that you had the gold chest,” affirmed 
Lod. 

“Sorry I haven’t, boys, sorry I haven’t; but 
we’ll get it yet,” 

“What was the man doing in the ’Glades?” 
asked Clifford. 

“Just looking over the land — getting ready 
to start a truck garden when the draining is 
finished. But, boys, I don’t think he’ll come 
again; for he’s had all he wants of the Ever- 
glades and the like. I never saw a man more 
frightened. But it’s all your fault, Lod, it’s all 
your fault,” and the leader spoke in serious 
tones. 

“What did I do? Mr. Green, I reck’n I didn’t 
do anything.” 

“Yes, you did; you found the gold; and then 
our troubles began.” Mr. Green laughed and 
patted the boy on the shoulder, and Lod grinned 
when he saw that the man was joking with him. 


192 MR. GREEN ATTACKS THE ENEMY 

“Where did the fellow go?” asked Clifford. 

“Wilkins, you mean; why, I asked him to come 
on with us, but he said he knew a shorter way 
out of the 'Glades, and since there was no war 
he wasn’t afraid any more.” 

. As it was now late in the afternoon, it was de- 
cided to spend the night on the hummock. Since 
there was no need of saving provisions, there was 
a plentiful repast for supper. The boys were 
delighted to have the leader in their company 
again, the bears were far away, and no doubt 
Gator Pete had outdistanced them by many 
miles. It was then with a feeling of security 
that they lay down in their hammocks. Little 
did they dream of the effects of their fire-signals 
upon the mind of 'Gator Pete! Only later were 
they to know of the coming of Mr. Reed and the 
plight of Pedro Blanco! 

Early morning found Mr. Green and the boys 
astir. All equipment was soon aboard, and the 
campers were gliding along an open lead to- 
ward the Shark River. 


CHAPTER XXVII 

CLIFFORD SAVAGE WAS NOT DECEIVED 

I T was still early in the morning with Mr. Green 
and the boys paddling the two canoes, for 
they had reached a place where the saw grass 
was too thick to use the motor. While they 
were discussing various possible ways of reach- 
ing an open lead, suddenly Clifford Savage star- 
tled the party by announcing a canoe to the 
right. 

"Mr. Green! Mr. Green!” he called out in a 
rather subdued voice, "canoe — canoe over there 
— to the right.” 

"How many in it?” 

"Don’t know! I just saw something move 
along — and then it was gone.” 

"These hummocks often deceive a fellow.” 

"I know, but — but, Mr. Green, I am sure it’s 
a canoe.” 

"And you didn’t see any one in it?” 

"Mr. Green, I am not sure — it was all too 
fast.” 

"The fellow may be crouching low,” acknowl- 
edged the man. "Clif, we haven’t any time to lose 

193 


194 CLIFFORD SAVAGE NOT DECEIVED 

chasing hummocks; but if it's a canoe, and if 
the man in it is trying to hide, then it's 'Gator 
Pete." 

"I don't know who it is," replied the boy, 
“but there's a canoe right over there, I'm sure 
of it." 

The boy spoke with such conviction that Mr. 
Green was determined to investigate. “Well, 
boys," he began, "I'll have to leave you alone 
again. This thing of running away from you 
and coming back is getting monotonous. I'm go- 
ing to bring somebody with me this time, and, 
Lod, be ready to count your gold." 

“Don't let 'Gator Pete shoot you," pleaded 
the boy. 

“Never, he hasn't enough sense to kill Mark 
Green. I'll fool him. I may be gone for some 
time. There's a hummock over there with a small 
palm tree on it. Stay right there until I come. 
If the ground's dry get out and put up one of 
the tents for shade. It's hot — very hot — when 
one is not moving." 

The boys were about to carry out the leader's 
instructions when a cry of alarm came from the 
hummock where Clifford had seen the canoe. 

One man was in view, waving his hands vio- 
lently and calling the party. 

“It's some fellow who needs help — it's — it's 
that man Bob Wilkins — sure, sure it’s Bob Wil- 
kins," affirmed Mark Green. 

Wait ! wait !" repeated the stranger several 
times, as he neared the party. “Thought I'd 
missed you," he said, all excited while he drew 


CLIFFORD SAVAGE NOT DECEIVED 195 

his canoe up to the Little Tarpon. “Can’t I join 
you?” 

“Come right on — right on! you were invited 
yesterday.” 

“Yes, I was, I know I was invited. I thought 
I d try it alone ) but last night I changed my 
mind, and early this morning I cut across the 
leads to find you. I was getting lost — all mixed 
up, you see. I was thinking, too, about that gold 
story. I know I can help you.” 

“We’ll talk it over when we come to an open 
lead.” 

“I’m pretty good with my paddle,” said Bob, 
“and will follow on with you.” 

As Mr. Green did not wish to lose any time, 
the party made no stop for dinner, but each did 
his best to satisfy his hunger while resting after 
work with the paddle. 

At times, Bob Wilkins came close to the boys 
and asked them who had discovered the gold and 
what would be his share in case he caught the 
thief. Then he told them about his strawber- 
ries and cabbage and celery, and talked so much 
of his fortune and his plans that all agreed Bob 
Wilkins was an interesting person. 

When an open lead was reached, Mr. Wilkins 
tied his canoe behind the Raud , leaving both 
craft to be towed by the Little Tarpon. Then he 
seated himself beside Mark Green and began 
to tell him what he knew of ’Gator Pete. 

“ ’Gator Pete’s the laziest man in Florida,” 
said he. 

“And the meanest,” added Mr. Green. 


196 CLIFFORD SAVAGE NOT DECEIVED 


“Hasn’t got much sense, either,” claimed Wil- 
kins. 

“Not much more than a real alligator. I can 
fool any alligator, and I am going to fool Alli- 
gator Pete.” 

“Unless I fool him first,” thought Bob Wilkins. 
In fact, it was not fear, but the news of the gold 
chest that had brought Wilkins back to Mr. 
Green and the boys. During the very short con- 
versation of the previous day, Mark Green had 
briefly related to the stranger the incidents of 
the finding of the box and its probable value. 
Wilkins argued to himself that where one box 
w~as found there might be a second box ; in fact, 
it was just possible that numerous chests of gold 
w ere buried at this identical spot. He would re- 
turn to the campers and get further particulars 
about Lookout Island and the exact location of 
the hidden treasure. He would then offer to 
assist them in the search for ’Gator Pete, pro- 
vided he was offered one-half the gold. Was it 
not easier to make a fortune in this way than 
to labor for months in truck gardens? With these 
thoughts in mind, Bob Wilkins had entered into 
conversation with Mark Green. 

“Ever raise celery?” he asked. 

“No, sir.” 

“Ever raise cabbage?” 

“Yes, a row or so in New York.” 

“Ever raise strawberries?” 

“No! no! I let others do the raising and then 
eat them.” 

“Lots of money in raising celery and cabbage 


CLIFFORD SAVAGE NOT DECEIVED 197 


and strawberries,” was the emphatic assertion 
of Bob Wilkins. In fact, his whole vision of 
life was limited to truck gardens of celery, cab- 
bage and strawberries — limited until he heard 
the treasures of the gold chest. “Well, sir,” he 
continued, “that ’Gator Pete worked for me in 
my celery gardens. That is, I paid him for work- 
ing — paid him too much for the time he would 
put in. Every time I left him, he’d be standing 
with a hoe in his hand looking at birds or clouds 
or something. Then he made a cabin for him- 
self — made it of sticks and palm leaves. Right 
good cabin, too, but I paid him for his time while 
he made it. That’s the thing ! Well, sir, we kind 
of fell out and that’s the last time I saw him. 
But I got an idea — a real good one.” 

“What is it?” and Mark Green seemed but 
little interested in the conversation. 

“Just this! just this! I kinder believe that 
’Gator Pete will make for the cabin and hide 
there. Now, I’ve got one question — will I get 
one-half the gold if I catch him?” 

“The gold belongs to the boys,” said the leader. 
“I’ll have to consult them.” 

The boys had caught snatches of the conver- 
sation and were ready for Mr. Green’s question. 

“I don’t know, Mr. Green,” replied Lod, who 
was appealed to first. 

“And what do you think, Clifford?” 

“It’s hard to give up half of it, sir.” 

“The finding was only an accident, but captur- 
ing the thief will require time and some— some 
fighting, perhaps,” interrupted Bob Wilkins. 


198 CLIFFORD SAVAGE NOT DECEIVED 

“And, Phil, what’s your opinion?” the leader 
wanted to know. 

“Mr. Green, Lod found the chest and I think 
he should have the say about it.” 

“Too important ! much too important to leave 
to a boy !” protested Bob Wilkins. “Mr. Green, 
you should settle this matter. Remember, it will 
require weeks and perhaps months to trace the 
thief.” 

“I think you are asking too much, Mr. Wil- 
kins. Suppose, we make it one-third. Lod, are 
you willing to give the man one-third of the 
gold if he catches ’Gator Pete?” 

“Yes, sir, if you are willing and the other 
boys are willing.” 

It was soon agreed all around that Bob Wil- 
kins was to get one-third of the gold if he suc- 
ceeded in capturing ’Gator Pete. 

Then the stranger turned the conversation to 
Lookout Island. He learned just where the chest 
had been found, the depth of the water, the lo- 
cation of the camp, and the position of both 
in relation to the big bay tree. 

So many questions Bob Wilkins asked that 
Mr. Green was relieved when the open lead came 
to an end, and it was necessary to paddle the 
canoes. Throughout the day Mr. Wilkins en- 
tertained the boys with snatches of conversa- 
tion in regard to his success at truck gardening 
and his plans for capturing ’Gator Pete. 

For Lod, the prospects of getting the box 
seemed more and more hopeful. Indian Tom was 
hastening to the mouth of Shark River to inter- 


CLIFFORD SAVAGE NOT DECEIVED 199 


cept the fugitive; and even if the thief did suc- 
ceed in reaching the cypress swamp before he 
was overtaken, there was still a possibility of 
capturing him in the cabin. It mattered little if 
Bob Wilkins exacted a third of the gold, for there 
would still remain enough to gladden the heart 
of any boy. 

Late that afternoon, Bob Wilkins left the party 
and followed a lead further north. He waved a 
farewell to the boys and assured them that when 
next they met he would carry with him the lost 
chest. 

The rest of the trip across the Everglades was 
uneventful. The faithful Indian was found at 
the source of the river, but had seen nothing of 
’Gator Pete. 

Tacked to a tree, near a place where a camp 
had been made, was a note which proved to be 
a message from Thomas Reed: 

“To Mark Green and the Boys : 

“I came up here to meet you, but saw ’Gator 
Pete and learned from him that Pedro Blanco 
had been wounded by an accident. Later, I 
learned that ’Gator had stolen the box which 
you borrowed from the Blanco family. I’m in 
pursuit of ’Gator Pete. You’ll find Pedro with 
a party near Big Island — to the right facing 
downstream. 

“Tom Reed.” 

“Hurrah !” cried out Lod, “they’ll get my box, 
I bet you my knife !” 


200 CLIFFORD SAVAGE NOT DECEIVED 


“Hurrah! hurrah!” shouted Phil, “let’s hurry 
on!” 

“Boys,” said the leader, and he spoke in a 
serious tone, “there is something more important 
than the box. You will notice that Pedro has 
been wounded, and that Mr. Reed heard the news 
from ’Gator Pete. I don’t know what brought 
poor Pedro into the ’Glades; but I believe that 
he has met with foul play, and I suspect the 
’Gator.” 

“Now I understand about the two canoes, Mr. 
Green,” spoke up Clifford, “one belonged to Pe- 
dro and the other was the ’Gator’s.” 

“It does seem that way, my lad, it does seem 
that way. You saw the two canoes and on the 
following morning you saw the Indian’s canoe. 
That explains away all the canoes. But what 
brought Pedro here, and why should ’Gator Pete 
injure him? That’s the difficulty — that’s the 
question I would like some one to answer.” 

Mark Green paid the Indian for his services, 
repeated the agreement about tending to the 
vegetable garden, and ordered the boys to jump 
into the canoes. Current and motor bore them 
down the stream toward Big Island, 


CHAPTER XXVIII 

SENOR LOPEZ BECOMES A HERO 

O N the afternoon of the day when the wounded 
Pedro Blanco was brought to the camp at 
Big Island, the little jeweler, Senor Lopez, went 
rowing along one of the lonely rivulets which 
intersect the hummocks. Under some maple 
branches, which dipped into the water and 
formed a natural shelter, he spied what appeared 
to be a deserted canoe. Approaching the craft and 
pulling aside the curtain of leaves, he saw to his 
surprise a single occupant — a man, sleeping 
soundly. At the man’s side was a box and, near 
the box, a rifle. 

It suddenly dawned upon the little jeweler 
that the sleeper was none other than the thief, 
’Gator Pete. For a while he hesitated. Then 
slowly he came to a position where he could 
reach the rifle. He lifted it up without awaking 
the man, and pushed his own canoe some feet 
into the channel. 

Never in his whole life had Senor Lopez used 
any kind of firearm. Yet, with a rifle and at a 
short distance from his adversary he would have 
a decided advantage. Raising the weapon to his 
shoulder and pointing it at the sleeper he cried 
out : “Wake up ! surrender !” 

201 


202 SENOR LOPEZ BECOMES A HERO 

No answer came from the slumbering man. 

“Wake up! Surrender !” 

’Gator Pete groaned and raised his head. 

“Surrender! surrender!” but the slow, mono- 
tonous tones were only calculated to cause ridi- 
cule. 

The thief saw at a glance that his rifle was 
gone. 

“Surrender! surrender!” came the repeated 
challenge. 

“Git ’way! dey ain’t no load in de rifle!” came 
the answer. 

Before the jeweler could recover from his sur- 
prise ’Gator Pete caught a branch of the maple 
and, by a sudden thrust, sent his own canoe with 
a thug against the craft of his assailant. Senor 
Lopez was thrown with violence to the bottom of 
his canoe, and before he could arise the thief was 
pulling with all his strength through the lily pads 
to the open channel. 

Screaming at the top of his voice Senor Lopez 
started in pursuit. He had the advantage of 
being fresh for the race, while his opponent was 
exhausted by the work and excitement of the 
past three days. Had the thief stopped and 
offered to engage in an open contest Lopez would 
not have been able to hold his own with the 
larger and more experienced man; but ’Gator 
Petes only thought was to escape with the 
treasure. He was gradually pulling away from 
his pursuer when he heard others answering the 
call for help. & 

At one of the intersecting channels two men 


SENOR LOPEZ BECOMES A HERO 203 

from the camp appeared in a canoe. They were 
soon following in the wake of Senor Lopez, who 
encouraged them to pull harder and harder. 
But as the men had but one set of oars they 
could make but little gain upon the fugitive. 

Out into a wider water course ’Gator Pete 
turned. He was safe ! neither canoe could over- 
take him ! 

But soon he caught the rapid thug of a motor- 
boat; and, from the cries of his pursuers, he 
guessed aright that Mr. Reed was coming upon 
the scene. The race would now be short. What 
would the fugitive do? 

Standing in the canoe he deliberately opened 
the box and caught it up in his arms, in full view 
of Thomas Reed. Out into the channel, which 
was deep and swift, he poured the contents. 
Overboard he threw the box, which sank rapidly. 
Then he ran his canoe ashore and disappeared in 
a cluster of mangrove bushes. 

Thomas Reed brought his motor-boat aside the 
deserted canoe and waited for the other men. 

“Gone! all gone!” 

“The box ! the gold?” asked the excited jeweler. 

“Both !” 

“Where?” 

“Out there in the current.” 

“How? how, Mr. Reed?” 

“He simply threw them away, when he saw I 
would overtake him.” 

“Why did you not shoot?” 

“It was all done too quickly. I could never 
have hit him at that distance.” 


204 SENOR LOPEZ BECOMES A HERO 

“Too bad! too bad! Can we not try to get it?” 

“Useless ! This is one of the swiftest and deep- 
est channels in Ten Thousand Islands. The box 
is probably a quarter of a mile from here by this 
time and the ore is half covered by the sand.” 

In the meanwhile, the two campers had come 
up in the second canoe. “Gentlemen,” said Mr. 
Reed, “a poor Spanish family, living not far 
from here, had a box of ore. They loaned the 
box, to a Mr. Mark Green, who took it out some 
twenty-five miles into the Everglades. Later, 
from a letter and from an analysis, Mr. Lopez 
and myself discovered that the ore was valued at 
about seven thousand dollars. I saw the ore a 
few days ago. Now, here is something that I 
can’t understand; it reads like a story. This 
man Pete, or ’Gator Pete, as he is called around 
here, is discovered with the box and the ore. If 
he had one or the other I could understand ; but 
how he could get both of them is a mystery to me. 
I just saw him open the box and throw the con- 
tents into the river and then cast the box into 
the water. I can’t understand it! Can’t under- 
stand I” No one seemed able to offer an explana- 
tion. “Right out there,” he continued, “right out 
there in that deep and swift channel.” All 
looked in the direction indicated, but for a while 
there was a silence. 

“Let’s follow the thief,” suggested the jeweler. 

“Useless to try,” replied Mr. Reed, ‘die’s a 
water-dog, an alligator. We could never follow 
the trail. Perhaps hunger will drive him to sur- 
render; but we could never capture him.” 


SENOR LOPEZ BECOMES A HERO 205 


“I thought that the gold was in Blanco’s 
house,” said Lopez. 

“It was there. Ill be of! early in the morning 
to visit the family and see what has happened.” 

As it was quite late, the men hurried back to 
camp. On the following morning, Thomas Reed 
started for the home of Pedro Blanco. He 
informed the wife that Pedro had met with a 
slight accident, but that he would be home in a 
few T days. Luckily the gold ore was safe. The 
visitor took it with him, promising to send it by 
the first boat to the government mint at Wash- 
ington. What had ’Gator Pete thrown into the 
water? Thomas Reed had no answer to the ques- 
tion. 

When Mark Green and the boys arrived at the 
camp on Big Island they found poor Pedro much 
improved. The sight of the box seemed to restore 
strength and spirits to the sufferer; and it was 
with difficulty that the physician, who had 
attended him, could retain him at camp for a few 
days, until he was fully able to make the trip. 

We need not describe the happiness of Juana 
when her husband returned with the good luck 
box ; nor the surprise of Mr. Green and the boys 
when they heard that the poor Spaniard was a 
rich man; nor their disappointment when they 
learned that their own box with its contents had 
been cast into the swift channel. 

That night around the camp-fire information 
was exchanged. Mr. Reed explained how they 
came to know of the value of the ore which had 
lain for nearly a century in the box in the poor 


206 SENOR LOPEZ BECOMES A HERO 

fisherman’s hut. He informed the party, too, 
that according to the letter the second box con- 
tained as much if not more ore, than was left at 
the Blancos’ home. 

“Gee!” interrupted Lod, “I had live thousand 
dollars’ worth of gold !” 

“Yes, my lad, every cent of that amount,” said 
the jeweler. 

“Can’t we find it again?” 

“No chance of any such luck,” said Mr. Reed, 
I saw the whole contents thrown into the deen 
channel.” 1 

“Bet my—” 

„ “f to P ri S ht there!” interposed Mr. Green, 
we ve won that knife at least fifty times ” 

“Bet my — ” 

“Stop, stop right there!” 

Here the conversation was interrupted by the 
reports of a pistol. Leaping to their feet and 
seizing their firearms the men rushed into the 
woods. To their surprise they came upon Senor 
Lopez; and in front of him with his hands above 
his head stood ’Gator Pete. 

After supper, the little jeweler had slipped 
away from the camp with the determination to 
practice with his automatic, for he had learned 
from the day’s experience that it was well to be 
versed m the use of arms. He was far more 
successful than he had hoped, and after the use 
of several shells was able to hit a pine tree at a 
distance of twenty steps. 

ti m I i. he TfT ld T] y r e i ’ Gator Pete a second 

time! If he could only find the thief now! The 


SENOR LOPEZ BECOMES A HERO 207 

thief who had refused to surrender ! the thief who 
had treated him with contempt and kicked his 
canoe and rowed away unharmed! If he could 
only meet the thief again ! Thus mused the little 
jeweler, proud of the record which he had made 
shooting at pine trees and anxious to show his 
prowess in the experience of a real struggle. 
Losing his way on his return to the camp, it was 
after dark when he finally succeeded in finding a 
path which lead to his companions. 

What could that dark object be not ten feet 
from him? Was it a log or an animal or a human 
being? It moved ; and in the shadows the form of 
a man was plainly visible, creeping along under 
the pine trees. Out came the automatic. Later 
Senor Lopez could not recall whether he had 
fired at the moving figure or whether in his 
excitement the automatic had gone off acciden- 
tally. But in either case the effect was instan- 
taneous. “Don’t shoot me ! don’t shoot me ! I sur- 
render.” With his hands above his head stood 
’Gator Pete a prisoner. 

On being brought to camp, the famished man 
asked for food, and, as he ate, he acknowledged 
that hunger had driven him to the island, where 
he hoped to be able to steal some of the supplies. 
He confessed, moreover, that he had only thrown 
some stones and shells into the current, and that 
the gold ore would be found in the bottom of his 
canoe mixed with shells and covered with grass. 
In vain he pleaded for mercy, for one of the party 
was a justice of the peace and insisted on bring- 
ing the prisoner to trial. He was later sentenced 


208 SENOR LOPEZ BECOMES A HERO 

to a two-year term in the state penitentiary. 

Little sleep came to the boys, who remained 
with Mr. Green and the campers that night. 
Would they find the ore in the canoe? How much 
was the gold worth? How would they divide 
the fortune? Would Senor Lopez claim a part? 

At break of day, the entire party set out and 
soon came to the abandoned canoe. There was 
the ore, the gold — the long-lost treasure of the 
Spanish adventurer! The jew T eler pronounced 
the ore of better quality than that contained in 
the box of Pedro Blanco; moreover, he laid no 
claim to any of the wealth. Mr. Green, too, said 
that he would relinquish his part to the boys. 

Analysis at the Government mint showed that 
che ore in the two boxes was of the same quality. 
Pedro received four thousand, six hundred and 
Mxty dollars and eleven cents; while the boys, 
who had a smaller amount of the ore, received a 
trifle over four thousand dollars. A thousand 
dollars was contributed by Pedro and another 
thousand by the boys for the new church. 

Phil and Clifford could not decide what they 
would do with their fortunes, but Lod bet his 
knife that he would later buy a farm near Look- 
out Island. 


THE END. 


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INTERIOR OF JESUS AND MARY. 

Grou, S.J. 2 vols. net , $3.00. 
INTRODUCTION TO A DEVOUT 
LIFE. St. Francis de Sales. 
Cloth, net , $1.00. 

LITTLE ALTAR BOYS’ MANUAL. 

LITTLE COMMUNICANTS’ 
PRAYER-BOOK. Sloan. $0.25. 
LITTLE MANUAL OF ST AN- 
THONY. Lasance. net , $0.25. 
LITTLE MANUAL OF ST. JOSEPH. 
Lings, net , $0.25. 

LITTLE MANUAL OF ST. RITA. 
McGrath. $0.90. 

LITTLE MASS BOOK, THE. Lynch. 
Paper, *0.08. 

LITTLE MONTH OF MAY. net , 

$0.60. 

LITTLE MONTH OF THE SOULS IN 
PURGATORY, net , $0.60. 

LITTLE OFFICE OF THE BLESSED 
VIRGIN MARY. In Latin and 
English, net , $1.75; in Latin only, 
net , $1.25. 

LITTLE OFFICE OF THE IMMAC- 
ULATE CONCEPTION. Paper, 
*$0.08. 

MANNA OF THE SOUL. Prayer- 
Book by Father Lasance. Vest- 
pocket edition. Silk cloth, red edges, 
$0.60; imitation leather, limp, gold 
edges, $1.00; American seal, limp, 
gold edges, $1.50. 

MANNA OF THE SOUL. Prayer- 
Book by Father Lasance. Extra 
large type edition. Im. leather, limp, 
red edges, $1.90; gold edges, $2.25; 
Am. seal, limp, gold edges, $3.25. 
MANNA OF THE SOUL. Prayer- 
Book by Father Lasance. Thin 
edition. Im. leather, limp, red edges, 
$1.15; gold edges, $1.40; Am. seal, 
Limp, gold edges, $2.00. 


3 


MANNA OF THE SOUL. Prayer- 
Book by Father Lasance. Thin 
edition with Epistles and Gospels, 
Im. leather, limp, red edges, $1.50; 
gold edges, $1.85; Am. seal, limp, gold 
edges, $2.50. 

MANUAL OF THE HOLY EUCHAR- 
IST. Lasance. Imitation leather, 
limp, red edges, $1.25; Am. seal, 
limp, gold edges, $2.00. 

MANUAL OF THE HOLY NAME, 
$0.75. 

MANUAL OF THE SACRED HEART, 
NEW, $1.00. 

MANUAL OF ST. ANTHONY, net, 
$0.90. 

MARIAS COROLLA. Poems. Hill, 
C.P. net, $1.75. 

MARY, HELP OF CHRISTIANS. 
Hammer, O.F.M., net, $3.50. 

MASS DEVOTIONS AND READINGS 
ON THE MASS. Lasance. Im. 
leather, limp, red edges, $1.35; Am. 
seal, limp, gold edges, $2.00. 

MEANS OF GRACE. Brennan, net, 
$5.00. 

MEDITATIONS FORALLTHEDAYS 
OF THE YEAR. Hamon, S.S. 5 
vols., net, $8.75. 

MEDITATIONS FOR EVERY DAY 
IN THE MONTH. Nepveu, S.J. 
net, $1.25. 

MEDITATIONS FOR EVERY DAY 
IN THE YEAR. Baxter, S.J. net, 
$2.00 

MEDITATIONS FOR EVERY DAY 
IN THE YEAR ON THE LIFE OF 
OUR LORD. Vercruysse, S.J. 2 
vols. net, $4.50. 

MEDITATIONS FOR MONTHLY 
RETREATS. Semple, S.J. net, 
$1.25. 

MEDITATIONS FOR THE USE 
OF THE SECULAR CLERGY. 
Chaignon, S.J. 2 vols. net, $7.00. 

MEDITATIONS ON THE LIFE 
THE TEACHING AND THE 
PASSION OF JESUS CHRIST. 
Ilg-Clarke. 2 vols. net, $5.00. 

MEDITATIONS ON THE MYSTER- 
IES OF OUR HOLY FAITH. 
Barratjd, S.J. 2 vols., net, $4.50. 

MEDITATIONS ON THE PASSION 
OF OUR LORD, net, $0.85. 

MEDITATIONS ON THE SUFFER- 
INGS OF JESUS CHRIST. Per- 
inaldo. net, $1.25. 

MISSION-BOOK OF THE REDEMP- 
TORIST FATHERS. $0.90. 


MISSION BOOK FOR THE MAR- 
RIED. Girardey, C.SS.R. $0.90. 

MISSION BOOK FOR THE SINGLE. 
Girardey, C.SS.R. $0.90. 

MISSION REMEMBRANCE OF THE 
REDEMPTORIST FATHERS. 
Geiermann, C.SS.R. $0.90. 

MOMENTS BEFORE THE TABER- 
NACLE. Russell, S.J. net, $0.60. 

MORE SHORT SPIRITUAL READ- 
INGS FOR MARY’S CHILDREN. 
Cecilia, net, $1.25. 

MOST BELOVED WOMAN, THE. 
Garesche', S.J. net, $1.50. 

MY PRAYER-BOOK. Happiness in 
Goodness. Reflections, Counsels, 
Prayers, and Devotions. By Rev. 
F. X. Lasance. i6mo. Seal grain 
cloth, stiff covers, red edges, $1.50. 
Im. leather, limp, red edges, $1.90; 
gold edges, $2.25. Real leather, limp, 
gold edges, $3.25. 

NEW MISSAL FOR EVERY DAY. 
Lasance. Im. leather, limp, red 
edges, $2.50; gold edges, $2.75; A m - 
seal, limp, gold edges, $3.75. 

NEW TESTAMENT. i2mo edition. 
Large type. Cloth, net, $1.75; 32mo 
edition. Flexible cloth, net, $0.45.; 
Stiff cloth, net, $0.80; Amer. seai, 
gold edge^, net, $1.35. 

NEW TESTAMENT AND CATHO- 
LIC PRAYER-BOOK COMBINED. 
net, $0.85. 

OFFICE OF HOLY WEEK, COM- 
PLETE. Latin and English. Cut 
flush, net, $0.40; silk cloth, net, $0.55; 
Am. seal, red edges, net, $1.35; Am. 
seal, gold edges, net, $1.50. 

OUR FAVORITE DEVOTIONS. 
Lings, net, $1.00. 

OUR FAVORITE NOVENAS. Lings. 
net, $1.00. 

OUTLINE MEDITATIONS. Cecilia. 
net, $1.75. 

PARADISE ON EARTH OPENED 
TO ALL. Natale, S. J. net, $0.75. 

PATHS OF GOODNESS, THE. Ga* 
RESCHE, S.J. net, $1.50. 

POCKET PRAYER-BOOK. Cloth. 
net, $0.25. 

POLICEMEN’S AND FIREMEN’S 
COMPANION. McGrath. $0.35. 

PRAYER-BOOK FOR RELIGIOUS 
Lasance. i6mo. Imitation leather, 
limp, red edges, net, $2.00; Am. seal 
limp, gold edges, net, $3.00. 

PRAYERS FOR OUR DEAD. Mc- 
Grath. Cloth, $0.35; im. leather 
$o-75- 


4 


PRISONER OF LOVE. Prayer-Book 
by Father Lasance. Im. leather, 
limp, red edges, $1.90; gold edges, 
$2.25; Am. seal, limp, gold edges, 
$3-25- 

PRIVATE RETREAT FOR RELIG- 
IOUS. Geieri«ann, C.SS.R. net , 

REFLECTIONS FOR RELIGIOUS. 
Lasance. Im. leather, limp, red edges, 
net, $2.00; Am. seal, limp, gold edges, 
net, $3.00. 

REJOICE IN THE LORD. Prayer- 
Book by Father Lasance. Im. 
bather, ump, red edges, $2.00; gold 
edges, $2.50; Am. seal, limp, gold 
edges, $3.50. 

ROSARY, THE CROWN OF MARY. 
By a Dominican Father. i6mo, paper 

RULES OF LIFE FOR THE PASTOR 
OF SOULS. Slater-Rauch. net, 
$1.50. 

SACRED HEART BOOK. Prayer- 
Book by Father Lasance. Im. 
leather, limp, red edges, $1.25; Am. 
3eal, limp, gold edges, $2.00. 

SACRED HEART STUDIED IN THE 
SACRED SCRIPTURES. Sain- 
train. net, $1.25. 

SACRIFICE OF THE MASS WORTH- 
ILY CELEBRATED. Chajgnon, 
S.J. net, $2.75. 

SECRET OF SANCTITY. Crasset, 
S.J. net, $1.25. 

SERAPHIC GUIDE, THE. $1.25. 

SHORT MEDITATIONS FOR EVERY 
DAY. Lasausse. net, $1.25. 

SHORT VISITS TO THE BLESSED 
SACRAMENT. Lasance. net, $0.25. 

SODALIST’S VADE MECUM, net, 
$0.90. 

SOLDIERS’ AND SAILORS’ COM- 
PANION. McGrath. Vest-pocket 
3hape, silk cloth or khaki. $0.35. 

SOUVENIR OF THE NOVITIATE. 
Taylor, net, $0.85. 

SPIRIT OF SACRIFICE, THE, AND 
THE LIFE OF SACRIFICE IN 
THE RELIGIOUS STATE. Giraud. 
net, $3.00. 

SPIRITUAL CONSIDERATIONS. 
Buckler, O.P. net, $1.25. 

SPIRITUAL DESPONDENCY AND 
TEMPTATIONS. Michel, S.J. net, 
$i-75- 

SPOILING THE DIVINE FEAST. 
DE Zulueta, S.J. Paper, *$0.08; 

STORIES FOR FIRST COMMUNI- 
CANTS. Keller, net, $0.60. 


SUNDAY MISSAL, THE. Lasance. 
Im. leather, limp, red edges, $1.90; 
gold edges, $2.25; Am. seal, limp, 
gold edges, $3.25. 

THINGS IMMORTAL, THE. Ga- 
resche, S.J. net, $1.50. 

THOUGHTS ON THE RELIGIOUS 
LIFE. Lasance. Im. leather, limp, 
red edges, net, $2.00; Am. seal, limp, 
gold edges, net, $3.00. 

THOUGHTS AND AFFECTIONS ON 
THE PASSION OF JESUS CHRIST 
FOR EVERY DA V OF THE YEAR. 
Bergamo, net, $3.25. 

TRUE SPOUSE OF CHRIST. Liguori. 
net, $1.75. 

VENERATION OF THE BLESSED 
VIRGIN. Rohner-Brennan. net, 
$1.25. 

VIGIL HOUR, THE. Ryan, S.J. 

P^pcr j2 

VISITS TO JESUS IN THE TABER- 
NACLE. Lasance. Im. leather, limp, 
red edges, $2.00; Am. seal, limp, gola 
edges, $3-50. 

VISITS TO THE MOST HOLY SAC- 
RAMENT. Liguori. net, $0.90. 
WAY OF THE CROSS. Paper, *$0.08. 
WAY OF THE CROSS, THE. 
Very large-type edition. Method of St. 
Alphonsus Liguori. *$0.25. 

WAY OF THE CROSS. Eucharistic 
method. *$0.25. 

WAY OF THE CROSS. By a Jesuit 
Father. *$0.25. 

WAY OF THE CROSS. Method of St. 

Francis of Assisi. *$0.23. 

WAY OF THE CROSS. Method of ST. 

Alphonsus Liguori. *$0.25. 

WITH CHRIST, MY FRIEND. [Sloan. 
net, $1.25. 

WITH GOD. Prayer-Book by Father 
Lasance. Im. leather, limp, red edges, 
$2.00; gold edges, $2.50; Am. seal, 
limp, gold edges, $3.50. 

YOUNG MAN’S GUIDE, THE. 
Prayer-Book by Father Lasance. 
Seal grain cloth, stiff covers, red edges, 
$1 .50. Im. leather, limp, red edges, 
$1.90; gold edges, $2.25. Real leather, 
limp, gold edges, $3.25. 

YOUR INTERESTS ETERNAL. 

Garesche, S.J. net, $1.50. 

YOUR NEIGHBOR AND YOU. Ga- 
resche, S.J. net, $1.50. 

YOUR OWN HEART. Garesche, S.J. 
net, $1.50. 

YOUR ^SOUL’S SALVATION. 
Garesche, S.J. net, $1.50. 


5 


HI. THEOLOGY, LITURGY, HOLY SCRIPTURE, PHILOSOPHY, 
SCIENCE, CANON LAW 


ALTAR PRAYERS. Edition A: Eng- 
lish and Latin, net, $1.75. Edition B: 
German -English -Latin, net, $2.00. 

AMERICAN PRIEST, THE. Schmidt. 
net, $1.50. 

BAPTISMAL RITUAL. lamo. net 
$1.50. 

BENEDICENDA. Schulte. net,% 2.75. 

BURIAL RITUAL. Cloth, net, $1.50; 
sheepskin, net, $2.50; black morocco, 
net, $3.50. 

CASES OF CONSCIENCE. Slater, 
S.J. 2 vols. net, $6.00. 

CHRIST’S TEACHING CONCERN- 
ING IDIVORCE. Gigot. net, TO2.75. 

CLERGYMAN’S HANDBOOK OF 
LAW. Scanlon, net, $2.25. 

COMBINATION RECORD FOR 
SMALL PARISHES, net, $8.00. 

COMMENTARY ON THE PSALMS. 
Berry, net, $3.50. 

COMPENDIUM JURIS CANONICI 
AD USUM CLERI ET SEMINARI- 
ORUM HUJUS REGIONIS ACCOM- 
MODATUM. Smith, net, ^$2.50. 

COMPENDIUM JURIS REGULAR- 
IUM. Bachofen. net, H$3-5o. 

COMPENDIUM SACRE LITURGLE. 
Wapelhorst, O.F.M. net, 1f$3.oo. 

CONSECRANDA. Schulte. net, $2.75. 

ECCLESIASTICAL DICTIONARY. 
Thein. 4to, half mor. net, $6.50. 

GENERAL INTRODUCTION TO THE 
STUDY OF THE HOLY SCRIP- 
TURES. Gigot. net, 1f$4.oo. 

GENERAL INTRODUCTION TO THE 
STUDY OF THE HOLY SCRIP- 
TURES. Abridged edition, Gigot. 
net, H$ 2 . 75 . 

HOLY BIBLE, THE. Large type, handy 
size. Cloth, $2.25. 

JESUS LIVING IN THE PRIEST. 
Millet, S.J. -Byrne, net, $3.25. 

MANUAL OF HOMILETICS AND 
CATECHETICS. Schuech-Lueber- 
mann. net, $2.25. 

MANUAL OF MORAL THEOLOGY. 
Slater, S.J. 2 vols. net, $8.00. 

MARRIAGE LEGISLATION IN THE 
NEW CODE. Ayrinhac, S.S. net, 
$2.50. 


MARRIAGE RITUAL. Cloth, gilt 
edges, net, $1.50; sheepskin, gilt 
edges, net, $2.50; real morocco, gilt 
edges, net, $3.50. 

MESSAGE OF MOSES AND MODERN 
HIGHER CRITICISM. Gigot. 
Paper, net, ^$0.15. 

MORAL PRINCIPLES AND MED- 
ICAL PRACTICE. Coppens, S.J. 
net, $1.50. 

OUTLINES OF DOGMATIC THEOL- 
OGY. Hunter, S.J. 3 vols., net, $7.50. 

OUTLINES OF JEWISH rilSTORY, 
FROM ABRAHAM TO OUR LORD. 
Gigot. net, 1f$2.7s. 

OUTLINES OF NEW TESTAMENT 
HISTORY. Gigot. net, TO2.75. 

PASTORAL THEOLOGY. Stang. net, 
HI 2 . 2 S- 

PENAL LEGISLATION IN THE NEW 
CODE OF CANON LAW. Ayrinhac, 
S.S. net, $3.00. 

PHILOSOPHIA MORALI, DE. Russo, 
S.J. Half leather, net, $2.75. 

PREPARATION FOR MARRIAGE. 
McHugh, O.P. net, $0.60. 

PRAXIS SYNOD ALIS. Manuale Sy- 
nodi Diocesan £e ac Provincialis Cele- 
brandae. net, $1.00. 

QUESTIONS OF MORAL THEOLOGY. 
Slater, S.J. net, $3.00. 

RITUALE COMPENDIOSUM. Cloth, 
net, $1.25; seal, net, $2.00. 

SANCTUARY BOY&’ ILLUSTRATED 
MANUAL. McCallen, S.S. net, 
f$i.oo. 

SHORT HISTORY OF MORAL THE- 
OLOGY. Slater, S.J. net, $0.75. 

SPECIAL INTRODUCTION TO THE 
STUDY OF THE OLD TESTA* 
MENT. Gigot. Part I. net, ^$2.75, 
Part IL net, ^$3.25. 

SPIRAGO’S METHOD OF CHRIS- 
TIAN DOCTRINE. Messmer. net, 

TEXTUAL CONCORDANCE OF THE 
HOLY SCRIPTURES. Williams. 

what^cathoucs HAVE DONE 
FOR SCIENCE. Brennan, net, 
$1.50. 


CHRISTIAN MYSTERIES. Bono- 
melli, D.D.-Byrne. 4 vols. , net, $9.00. 

EIGHT-MINUTE SERMONS. De- 
mouy. 2 vols., net, $4.00. 

HOMILIES ON THE COMMON OF 
SAINTS. Bonomelli-Byrne. 2 vols., 
net, $4.50. 


IV. SERMONS 


HOMILIES ON THE EPISTLES AND 
GOSPELS. Bonomelli-Byrne. 4 vols. 
net, $9.00. 

MASTER’S WORD, THE, IN THE 
EPISTLES AND GOSPELS. Flynn. 
2 vols., net, $4.00. 


6 


OUTLINES OF SERMONS FOR 
YOUNG MEN AND YOUNG 
WOMEN. Schtten-Wirth. net, $3.50. 

POPULAR SERMONS ON THE CAT- 
ECHISM. Bamberg-Thurston, S.J. 
3 vols., net, $8.50. 

PULPIT SKETCHES. Lambert, net, 
$2.25. 

SERMONS. Canon Sheehan, net, 
$3-oo. 

SERMONS FOR CHILDREN’S 
MASSES. Frassinetti-Lings. net, 

SERMONS FOR THE SUNDAYS 
AND CHIEF FESTIVALS OF THE 
ECCLESIASTICAL YEAR. Pott- 
geisser, S.J. 2 vols., net, $5.00. 

SERMONS ON OUR BLESSED LADY. 
Fi.ynn. net, $2.50. 

SERMONS ON THE BLESSED SAC- 


RAMENT. Scheurer-Lasance. net, 
$2.50. 

SERMONS ON THE CHIEF CHRIS- 
TIAN VIRTUES. Hunolt-Wirth 
ixct 7 ^ 

SERMONS ON THE DUTIES OF 
CHRISTIANS. Hunolt-Wirth. 
net, $2.75. 

SERMONS ON THE FOUR LAST 
THINGS. Hunolt-Wirth. net, $2.75. 

SERMONS ON THE SEVEN DEADLY 
SINS. Hunolt-Wirth. net, $2.75. 

SERMONS ON THE VIRTUE AND 
THE SACRAMENT OF PENANCE. 
Hunolt-Wirth. net, $2.75. 

SERMONS ON THE MASS, THE SAC- 
RAMENTS AND THE SACRA- 
MENTALS. Flynn, net, $2.75. 

SHORT SERMONS FOR LOW 
MASSES. Schouppe, S.J. net, $2.25. 


V. HISTORY, BIOGRAPHY, HAGIOLOGY, TRAVEL 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF ST. IGNA- 
TIUS LOYOLA. O’Connor, S.J. 

BEGINNINGS OF CHRISTIANITY. 
Shahan. net, $3.00. 

CAMILLUS DE LELLIS. By a 
Sister of Mercy, net, $1.75. 

CHILD’S LIFE OF ST. JOAN OF 
ARC. Mannix. net, $1.50. 

GROWTH AND DEVELOPMENT OF 
THE CATHOLIC SCHOOL SYS- 
TEM IN THE UNITED STATES. 
Burns, C.S.C. net, $2.50. 

HISTORY OF ECONOMICS. Dewe. 
net, $2.00. 

HISTORY OF THE CATHOLIC 
CHURCH. Brueck. 2 vols., net, 

HISTORY OF THE CATHOLIC 
CHURCH. Businger-Brennan. net, 

HISTORY OF THE CATHOLIC 
CHURCH. Businger-Brennan. 
net ^$0.75. 

HISTORY OF THE PROTESTANT 
REFORMATION. Cobbett-Gas- 
quet. net, $1.25. 

HISTORY OF THE MASS. O’Brien. 
net $2.00. 

HOLtNESS OF THE CHURCH IN 
THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
Kempf, S.J. net, $2.75. 

LIFE OF ST. MARGARET MARY 
ALACOQUE. Illustrated. Bougaud. 
net, $2.75. „ 

LIFE OF CHRIST. Businger-Bren- 
nan. Illustrated. Half morocco, gilt 
edges, net, $15 00. „„ , _ 

LIFE OF CHRIST. Illustrated. Bus- 
xnger-Mullett. net, $3.50. 


LIFE OF CHRIST. Cochem. net, 

$1.25. 

LIFE OF ST. IGNATIUS LOYOLA. 

Genelli, S.J. net, $1.25. 

LIFE OF MADEMOISELLE LE 
GRAS, net, $1.25. 

LIFE OF POPE PIUS X. Illustrated. 
net, $3.50. 

LIFE OF SISTER ANNE KATHAR- 
INE EMMERICH. McGowan, 
O.S.A. net, $2.50. 

LIFE OF THE BLESSED VIRGIN. 

Rohner. net, $1.25. 

LITTLE LIVES OF THE SAINTS 
FOR CHILDREN. Berthold. net, 

LITTLE PICTORIAL LIVES OF THE 
SAINTS. With 400 illustrations. 
net, $2.00. 

LIVES OF THE SAINTS. Butler. 
net, $1.25. 

LOURDES. Clarke, S.J. net, $1.25. 
MARY THE QUEEN. By a Relig- 
ious. net, $0.75. 

MIDDLE AGES, THE. Shahan. net, 

NAMES THAT LIVE IN CATHOLIC 
HEARTS. Sadlier. net, $1.25. 
OUR OWN ST. RITA. Corcoran, 
O.S.A. net, $1.50. 

PATRON SAINTS FOR CATHOLIC 
YOUTH. Mannix. 3 vols. Each, 
net, $1.25. 

PICTORIAL LIVES OF THE SAINTS. 
With nearly 400 illustrations and ovel 
600 pages, net, $5.00. 

POPULAR LIFE OF ST. TERESA. 
L’abbe Joseph, net, $1.25. 


7 


PRINCIPLES ORIGIN AND ES- 
TABLISHMENT OF THE CATH- 
OLIC SCHOOL SYSTEM IN THE 
UNITED STATES. Burns, C.S.C. 
net, $2.50. 

RAMBLES IN CATHOLIC LANDS. 
Barrett, O.S.B. Illustrated, net, 

$ 3 - 50 . 

ROMA. Pagan Subterranean and Mod J 
era Rome in Word and Picture. By 
Rev. Albert Kuhn, O.S.B. , D.D. 
Preface by Cardinal Gibbons. 617 
pages. 744 illustrations. 48 full-page 
inserts, 3 plans of Rome in colors. 
8J x 12 inches. Red im. leather, gold 
side, net, $15.00. 

ROMAN CURIA AS IT NOW EXISTS. 

Martin, S.J. net, $2.50. 

ST. ANTHONY. War d. net, $1.25. 


ST. FRANCIS OF ASSISI. Dubois, 
S.M. net, $1.25. 

ST. JOAN OF ARC. Lynch, S.J. Illus- 
trated. net, $2.75. 

SAINTS AND PLACES. By 
John Ayscough. Illustrated, net, 
$3.00. 

SHORT LIVES OF THE SAINTS. 
Donnelly, net, $0.90. 

STORY OF JESUS SIMPLY TOLD 
FOR THE YOUNG, TFIE. Mul- 
holland. net, $1.00. 

STORY OF THE DIVINE CHILD. 
Told for Children. Lings, net, $0.75. 

STORY OF THE ACTS OF THE 
APOSTLES. Lynch, S.J. Illus- 
trated. net, $2.75. 

WOMEN OF CATHOLICITY. Sad- 
lier. net, $1.25. 


VL JUVENILES 


FATHER FINN’S BOOKS. 

Each, net, $1.50. 

FACING DANGER. 

HIS LUCKIEST YEAR. A Sequel tc 
“ Lucky Bob.” 

LUCKY BOB. 

PERCY WYNN; OR, MAKING i 
BOY OF HIM. 

TOM PLAYFAIR; OR, MAKING A 
START 

CLAUDE LIGHTFOOT; OR, HOW 
THE PROBLEM WAS SOLVED. 

HARRY DEE; OR, WORKING IT 
OUT. 

ETHELRED PRESTON; OR, THE 
ADVENTURES OF A NEW- 
COMER. 

THE BEST FOOT FORWARD; 
AND OTHER STORIES. 

CUPID OF CAMPION. 

THAT FOOTBALL GAME, AND 
WHAT CAME OF IT. 

THE FAIRY OF THE SNOWS. 

THAT OFFICE BOY. 

HIS FIRST AND LAST APPEAR- 
ANCE. 

MOSTLY BOYS. SHORT STORIES. 

FATHER SPALDING’S BOOKS. 
Each, net, $1.50. 

HELD IN THE EVERGLADES. 

AT THE FOOT OF THE SAND- 
HILLS. 

THE CAVE BY THE BEECH 
FORK. 

THE SHERIFF OF THE BEECH 
FORK 

THE CAMP BY COPPER RIVER. 

THE RACE FOR COPPER 
ISLAND. 


THE MARKS OF THE BEAR 
CLAWS. 

THE OLD MILL ON THE WITH- 
ROSE 

THE SUGAR CAMP AND AFTER. 

\D VENTURE WITH THE APACHES . 

Ferry, net, $0.75. 

ALTHEA. Nirdlinger. net, $1.00. 
AS GOLD IN THE FURNACE. 

Copus, S.J. net, $1.50. 

AS TRUE AS GOLD. Mannix. net, 
$0.75. 

AT THE FOOT OF THE SAND- 
HILLS. Spalding, S.J. net, $1.50. 
BELL FOUNDRY. Schaching, net , 
$o-7S- 

BERKLEYS, THE. Wight. net, 
$0.75. 

BEST FOOT FORWARD, THE. Finn, 
S.J. net, $1.50. 

BETWEEN FRIENDS. Aumerle. 
net, $1.00. 

BISTOURI. Melandri. net, $0.75. 
BLISSYLVANIA POST-OFFICE, 
h Taggart, net, $0.75. 

BOB O’LINK. Waggaman. net, $0.75. 
BROWNIE AND I. Aumerle. net, 
$1.00. 

BUNT AND BILL. Mulhocland. 

net, $0.75. 

BY BRANSCOME RIVER. Taggart. 
net, $0.75. 

CAMP BY COPPER RIVER. Spald- 
ing, S.J. net, $1.50. 

CAPTAIN TED. Waggaman. net, 
$1.00. 

CAVE BY THE BEECH FORK. 

Spalding, S.J. net, $1.50. 

CHARLIE CmTTYWICK. Bearne, 
S.J. net, $1.50. 


8 


CHILDREN OF CUP A. Mannix. net, 
$o.75- 

CHILDREN OF THE LOG CABIN. 
Delama re. net, $1.00. 

CLARE LORAINE. “Lee.” net, 
$ 1 . 00 . 

CLAUDE LIGHTFOOT. Finn, S.J. 
net, $1.50. 

CUPA REVISITED. Mannix. net, 

CUPID OF CAMPION. FrtTN, S.J. 
net, $1.50. 

DADDY DAN. Waggaman. net , 
$0.75. 

DEAR FRIENDS. Nuldlinger. net, 
$1.00. 

DIMPLING’S SUCCESS. Mulhol- 
land. net, $0.75. 

ETHELRED PRESTON. Finn, S.J. 
net, $1.50. 

EVERY-DAY GIRL, AN. Crowley. 
rut, $0.75. 

FACING DANGER. Finn, S.J. net, 

FAIRY OF THE SNOWS. Finn, S.J. 
net, $1.50. 

FINDING OF TONY. Waggaman. 
net, $1.50. 

FIVE BIRDS IN A NEST. Delamare. 
net, $1.00. 

FIVE O’CLOCK STORIES. By a 
Religious, net, $1.00. 

FLOWER OF THE FLOCK. Egan. 
net, $1.50. 

FOR THE WHITE ROSE. Hinkson. 
net, $0.75. 

FRED’S LITTLE DAUGHTER. 


Smith, net, $0.75. 

FREDDY CARR’S ADVENTURES. 


Garrold, S.J. net, $1.00. 

FREDDY CARR AND HIS FRIENDS. 

Garrold, S.J. net, $1.00. 

GOLDEN LILY, THE. Hinkson. net, 

GREAT CAPTAIN, THE. Hinkson. 
net, $0.75. 

HALDEMAN CHILDREN, THE. 

Mannix. net, $0.75. 

HARMONY FLATS. Whitmire, net, 
$1.00. 

HARRY DEE. Finn, S.J. net, $1.50. 
HARRY RUSSELL. Copus, S.J. net, 

HEIROF DREAMS, AN. O’Malley. 


net, $0.75. 
HELD IN 


THE 


EVERGLADES. 


Spalding, S.J. net, $1.50. 

HIS FIRST AND LAST APPEAR- 
ANCE. Finn, S.J. net, $1.50. 

HIS LUCKIEST YEAR. Finn, S.J. 


net, $1.50. 

HOSTAGE OF WAR, A. Bonestkel. 
net, $0.75. 


HOW THEY WORKED THEIR WAY. 
Egan, net, $1.00. 

IN QUEST OF ADVENTURE. Man- 
nix. net, $0.75. 

IN QUEST OF THE GOLDEN 
CHEST. Barton, net, $1.00. 
JACK. By a Religious, H.C.J. net, 
$0.75. 

JACK-O’LANTERN. Waggaman. 
net, $0.75. 

JACK HILDRETH ON THE NILE. 

Taggart, net, $1.00. 

JUNIOR’S OF ST. BEDE’S. Bryson. 
net, $1.00. 

JUVENILE ROUND TABLE. First 
Series, net, $i.<;o. 

JUVENILE ROUND TABLE. Second 
Series, net, $1.50. 

KLONDIKE PICNIC, A. Donnelly. 
net, $1.00. 

LEGENDS AND STORIES OF THE 
HOLY CHILD JESUS. Lutz. t net, 
$1.00. 

LITTLE APOSTLE ON CRUTCHES. 

Delamare. net $0.75. 

LITTLE GIRL FROM BACK EAST. 

Roberts, net, $0.75. 

LITTLE LADY OF THE HALL. 

Ryeman. net, $0.75. 

LITTLE MARSHALLS AT THE 
LAKE. Nixon-Roulet. net, $1.00. 
LITTLE MISSY. Waggaman. net, 

LOYAL BLUE AND ROYAL SCAR- 
LET. Taggart, net, $1.50. 
LUCKY BOB. Finn, S.J. nct,% 1.50. 
MADCAP SET AT ST.>ANNE’S. Bru- 
nowe. net, $0.75. 

MAD KNIGHT, THE. Schaching. 
net, $0.75. 

MAKING OF MORTLAKE. Copus, 
S.J. net, $1.50. 

MAN FROM NOWHERE. Sadlier. 
net, $1.50. 

MARKS OF THE BEAR CLAWS. 

Spalding, S.J. net, $1.50. 

MARY TRACY’S FORTUNE* Sad- 
lier. net, $0.75. 

MELOR OF THE SILVER HAND. 

Bearne, S.J. net, $1.50. 

MILLY AVELING. Smith, tut, $1.00. 
MIRALDA. Johnson, net, $0.75. 
MORE FIVE O’CLOCK STORIES. 

By a Religious, net, $1.00. 
MOSTLY BOYS. Finn, S.J. net, $1.50. 
MYSTERIOUS DOORWAY. Sadlier. 
net, $0.75. 

MYSTERY OF HORNBY HALL. 

Sadlier. net, $1.00. 

MYSTERY OF CLEVERLY. Baeion. 
net, $1.00. 

NAN NOBODY. Waggaman. net, 
$0.75. 


9 


NED RIEDER. Wehs. net, $1.00. 
NEW SCHOLAR AT ST. ANNE’S. 

Brunowe. net, $1.00. 

OLD CHARLMONT’S SEED-BED. 
Smith, net, $0.75. 

OLD MILL ON THE WITHROSE. 

Spalding, S.J. net, $1.50. 

ON THE OLD CAMPING GROUND. 

Mannix. net, $1.50. 

OUR LADY’S LUTENIST. Bearne, 
S.J. net, $1.50. 

PANCHO AND PANCHITA. Man- 
nix. net, $0.75. 

PAULINE ARCHER. Sadlier. net, 
$0.75. 

PERCY WYNN. Finn, S.J. net, % i.ko. 
PERIL OF DIONYSIO. Mannix. 
net, $0.75. 

PETRONILLA. Donnelly. net, 
$1.00. 

PICKLE AND PEPPER. Dorsey. 
net, $1.50. 

PILGRIM FROM IRELAND. Car- 
not. net, $0.75. 

PLAYWATER PLOT, THE. Wagga- 
man. net, $1.00. 

POLLY DAY’S ISLAND. Roberts. 
net, $1.50. 

POVERINA. Buckenham. net, $1.00. 
QUEEN’S PAGE, THE. Hinkson. net, 
$0.75. 

QUEEN’S PROMISE, THE. Wagga- 
man. net, $1.00. 

QUEST OF MARY SELWYN. Clem- 
entia. net, $1.50. 

RACE FOR COPPER ISLAND. Spald- 
ing, Sy. net, $1.50. 

RECRUIT TOMMY COLLINS. 

Bonesteel. net, $0.75. 
RIDINGDALE FLOWER SHOW. 

Bearne. S.J. net, $1.50. 

ROMANCE OF THE SILVER SHOON. 

Bearne, S.J. net, $1.50. 

ST. CUTHBERT’S. Copus, S.J. net, 
$1.50. 

SANDY JOE. Waggaman. net, 
$1.50. 

SEA-GULL’S ROCK. Sandeau. net, 
$0.75. 


SEVEN LITTLE MARSHALLS. 

Nixon-Roulet. net, $0.75. 
SHADOWS LIFTED. Copus, S.J. 
net, $1.50. 

SHEER PLUCK. Bearne, S.J. net , 
$1.50. 

SHERIFF OF THE BEECPI FORK. 

Spalding, S.J. net, $1.50. 
SHIPMATES. Waggaman. net, $1.00. 
SUGAR CAMP AND AFTER. Spald- 
ing, S.J. net, $1.50. 

SUMMER AT WOODVILLE. Sad- 
lier. net, $0.75. 

TALES AND LEGENDS OF THE 
MIDDLE AGES, de Capella. net, 
$1.00. 

TALISMAN, THE. Sadlier. net, 
$1.00. 

TAMING OF POLLY. Dorsey, net, 
$1.50. 

THAT FOOTBALL GAME. Finn, S.J. 
net, $i.i;o. 

THAT OFFICE BOY. Finn, S.J. net, 
$1.50. 

THREE LITTLE GIRLS AND ESPE- 
CIALLY ONE. Taggart, net, $0.75. 
TOLD IN THE TWILIGHT. Salome. 
net, $1.00. 

TOM LOSELY; BOY. Copus, S.J. 
net. $1.50. 

TOM PLAYFAIR. Finn, S.J. net, 
$1.50. 

TOM’S LUCK-POT. Waggaman. net, 
$0.75. 

TOORALLADDY. Walsh, net, $0.75 
TRANSPLANTING OF TESSIE. 

Waggaman. net, $1.00. 

TREASURE OF NUGGET MOUN- 
TAIN. Taggart, net, $1 .00. 

TWO LITTLE GIRLS. Mack, net, 
$0.75. ’ 

UNCLE FRANK’S MARY. Clemen- 
tia. net, $1.50. 

UPS AND DOWNS OF MARJORIE. 

Waggaman. net, $0.7 <. 

VIOLIN MAKER. Smith, net, $0 75 
WINNETOU, THE APACHE 
KNIGHT. Taggart, net, $1.00 
YOUNG COLOR GUARD. Bone- 
steel. net, $0.75. 


VII. NOVELS 


ISABEL C. CLARKE’S GREAT NOV- 
ELS. Each, net, $2.25. 

URSULA FINCH. 

THE ELSTONES. 

EUNICE. 

LADY TRENT’S DAUGHTER 
CHILDREN OF EVE. 

THE DEEP HEART. 

WHOSE NAME IS LEGION. 

FINE CLAY. 

PRISONERS’ YEARS. 


THE REST HOUSE. 

ONLY ANNE. 

THE SECRET CITADEL. 

BY THE BLUE RIVER. 

AGATHA’S HARD SAYING. Mul- 

HOLLAND, net, $1.65. 

ALBERTA: ADVENTURESS. L’Er- 
mite. 8vo net, $2.25. 

BACK TO THE WORLD. Champol 
net, $2.25. 


BARRIER, THE. Bazin, net $1.65. 
BALLADS OF CHILDHOOD. Poems. 

Earls, S.J. i2mo. net , $1.50. 
BLACK BROTHERHOOD, THE. 

Garrold, S.J. net , $2.25. 

BOND AND FREE. Connor, net , 
$1.00. 

“BUT THY LOVE AND THY 
GRACE.” Finn, S.J. net , $1.50. 
BY THE BLUE RIVER. Clarke. 
net , $2.25. 

CARROLL DARE. Waggaman. net , 
$1.25. 

CIRCUS-RIDER’S DAUGHTER. 

Brackel. net , $1.25. 

CHILDREN OF EVE. Clarke, net , 
$2.25. 

CONNOR D’ARCY’S STRUGGLES. 

Bertholds. net , $1.25. 

CORINNE’S VOW. Waggaman. net , 
$1.25. 

DAUGHTER OF KINGS, A. Hink- 
son. net , $2.25. 

DEEP HEART, THE. Clarke, net , 
$2.25. 

DION AND THE SIBYLS. Keon. 
net , $1.25. 

ELDER MISS AINSBOROUGH, THE 
Taggart, net , $1.25. 

ELSTONES, THE. Clarke, net , $2.25. 
EUNICE. Clarke, net , $2.25. 
FABIOLA. Wiseman, net , $1.00. 
FABIOLA’S SISTERS. Clarke, net , 
$1.25. 

FATAL BEACON, THE Brackel. 
net , $1.25. 

FAUSTULA. Ayscough. net , $2.25. 
FINE CLAY. Clarke, net , $2.25. 
FORGIVE AND FORGET. Lingen. 


net , $1.25. 

GRAPES OF THORNS. Waggaman. 
net , $1.25. 

HEART OF A MAN. Maher, net , 

$2.25. 

HEARTS OF GOLD. Edhor. net , 
$1.25. 

HEIRESS OF CRONENSTEIN. 

Hahn-Hahn. net , $1.00. 

HER BLIND JFOLLY. Holt, net , 
$1.25. 

HER FATHER’S DAUGHTER. Hink- 
son. net , $2.25. 

HER FATHER’S SHARE. Power. 
net , $1.25. 

HER JOURNEY’S END. Cooke. 
net , $1.25. 

IDOLS; or THE SECRET OF THE 
RUE CHAUSSE D’ANTIN. de 
Navery. net , $1.25. 

IN GOD’S GOOD TIME. Ross, net , 
$1.00. 

IN SPITE OF ALL. Staniforth, net , 
$1.25. 


IN THE DAYS OF KING HAL. 

Taggart, net , $1.25. 

IVY HEDGE, THE. Egan, net 
£ $2.25. 

KIND HEARTS AND CORONETS. 

Harrison, net , $1.25. 

LADY TRENT’S DAUGHTER. 

Clarke, net , $2.25. 

LIGHT OF HIS COUNTENANCE. 
Hart, net , $1.00. 

“LIKE UNTO A MERCHANT.” 

riDAv "tuft 

LINKED LIVES. Douglas, net , $2.25. 
LITTLE CARDINAL. Parr, net , 
$1.65. 

LOVE OF BROTHERS. Hinkson. net , 
$2.25. 

MARCELLA GRACE. Mulholland. 
net , $1.25. 

MARIE OF THE HOUSE D’ANTERS. 

Earls, S.J. net , $2.25. 

MELCHIOR OF BOSTON. Earls, 
S.J. net , $1.25. 

MIGHTY FRIEND, THE. L’Ermite. 
net , $2.25. 

MIRROR OF SHALOTT. Benson. 
net , $2.25. 

MISS ERIN. Francis, net , Si. 25. 
MR. BILLY BUTTONS. Lecky. net , 
$1.65. 

MONK’S PARDON, THE. de Nav- 
ery. net , $1.25. 

MY LADY BEATRICE. Cooke, net , 
$1.00. 

NOT A JUDGMENT. Keon. net , 
$1.65. 

ONLY ANNE. Clarke, net , $2.25. 
OTHER MISS LISLE. Martin, net , 
$1.00. 

OUT OF BONDAGE. Holt, net , 

OUTLAW OF CAMARGUE. deLa- 
mothe. net , $1.25. 

PASSING SHADOWS. Yorke. net , 
$1.65. 

PERE MONNIER’S WARD. Lecky. 
net , $1.65. 

PHKINGTON HEIR, THE. Sad- 
lier. net , $i. 25. 

PRISONERS’ YEARS. Clarke, net , 
$2.25. 

PRODIGAL’S DAUGHTER, THE, 
AND OTHER STORIES. Bugg. 
net . Si. 5°. 

PROPHET’S WIFE. Browne, net , 

RED 2 INN OF ST. LYPHAR. Sad- 
lier. net , $1.25. 

REST HOUSE, THE. Clarke, net , 

ROSE S OF THE WORLD. Martin. 
net , $1.25. 


11 


ROUND TABLE OF AMERICAN 
CATHOLIC NOVELISTS, net, $1.25. 

ROUND TABLE OF FRENCH CATH- 
OLIC NOVELISTS, net , $ 1 . 25 . 

ROUND TABLE OF GERMAN 
CATHOLIC NOVELISTS. net , 

ROUND TABLE OF IRISH AND 
ENGLISH CATHOLIC NOVEL- 
ISTS. net , $1.25. 

RUBY CROSS, THE. Wallace, net, 

RULER OF THE KINGDOM. Keon. 

SECRET 6 CITADEL, THE. Clarke. 

SECRET OF THE GREEN VASE. 
Cooke, net , $1.00. 

SHADOW OF EVERSLEIGH. Lans- 
downe. net , $1.00. 

SHIELD OF SILENCE Henry-Rup- 
fin. net , $2.25. 

SO AS BY FIRE. Connor, net , $1.25. 

SON OF SIRO, THE. Copus, S.J. 
net , $2.25. 

STORY OF CECILIA, THE. Hdtkson. 
net , $1.65. 

STUORE. Earls, S.J. net , $ 1 . 50 . 

TEMPEST OF THE HEART. Gray. 
net , $1.25. 

TEST OF COURAGE. Ross, net , 

THAT MAN’S DAUGHTER. Ross. 

THEiR r ’ 2 &OICE. Skinner, net » 


THROUGH THE DESERT. Sien- 
kxewicz. net, $2.25. 

TIDEWAY, THE. Ayscough. net, 

$2.25. 

TRAINING OF SILAS. Devine, net, 
$1.65. 

TRUE STORY OF MASTER 
GERARD. Sadlier. net , $ 1 . 65 . 
TURN OF THE TIDE, THE. Gray. 
net, $ 1. 2 s . 

UNBIDDEN GUEST, THE. Cooke. 
net, $i.oo. 

UNDER THE CEDARS AND THE 
STARS. Canon Sheehan, net, $2.25. 
UP IN ARDMUIRLAND. Barrett, 
O. S.B. net, $1.65. 

URSULA FINCH. Clarke, net , $ 2 . 25 . 
VOCATION OF EDWARD CONWAY, 
THE. Egan, net, $1. 65. 
WARGRAVE TRUST, THE. Reid. 

net, $1.65. „ 

WAR MOTHERS. Poems. Garesche, 
S.J. net, $0.60. 

WAY THAT LED BEYOND, THE. 

Harrison, net , $1.25. 

WEDDING BELLS OF GLENDA- 
LOUGH, THE. Earls, S.J. net, 

WHEN LOVE IS STRONG. Keon. 
net, $1.65. 

WHOSE NAME IS LEGION. Clarke. 

net, $2.25. 

WOMAN OF FORTUNE* A. Reid. 
net, $1.65. 

























